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7 i 


The Scout Master of Troop 5 


* 


















* 



THE 

“BISHOP’S SHADOW’’ BOOKS 

By Mrs. I. T. Thurston 


The Scout Master of Troop 5 

Illustrated, i2mo, cloth, net $1.00. 

The latest story by the author of 
“The Bishop’s Shadow ’’ is her “best 
yet." Full of the things that boys 
love, from camp life and adventure 
to the daily life among boys of the 
slums, it will be a decided “find" to 
all who read it. 

The Big Brother of Sabin Street 

Containing the story of Theodore 
Bryan (The Bishop’s Shadow). Illus- 
trated, i2mo, cloth, net $1.00. 

“ Full of the atmosphere of the 
earlier work, it will not disappoint 
the large number who wish to read 
more of this Boston street urchin 
who aspired to be a ‘shadow’ of the 
great Bishop. The reader will be 
charmed with this latest work from 
Mrs. Thurston’s pen." — Western 
Recorder. 

The Bishop’s Shadow 

Illustrated, i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 

“A captivating story of dear Phil- 
lips Brooks and a little street gamin 
of Boston, and how he became a 
controlling influence in Tode’s Life." 
— The Continent . 


The Scout Master 
of Troop 5 


BY 

I. T. THURSTON 

t* 

Author of “The Bishop’s Shadow,” 
“The Big Brother of Sabin Street” 
Etc., Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 



New York Chicago Toronto 

Fleming H. Revell Company 

London and Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1912, by 

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 


New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave. 
Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. 
London: 21 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street 


ROBERT, MACDUFF, 
CAROL AND WALLACE 










* 


# 






























CONTENTS 


I. 

A Runaway 

9 

II. 

The Youngest Scout 

23 

III. 

The Scout Master and Barney 33 

IV. 

Billy 

. 48 

V. 

A Country Hike 

• 57 

VI. 

A Crisis for Sidney Hart 

72 

VII. 

Around the Fire 

. 80 

VIII. 

Off for Camp 

. 92 

IX. 

A Race on the Lake 

. 114 

X. 

A Badge Surrendered 

126 

XI. 

When It Rained 

. 136 

XII. 

Lost — A Fountain Pen 

. 149 

XIII. 

A Change of Program 

. 158 

XIV. 

A Lonely Tramp 

• i 75 

XV. 

Found .... 

. 187 

XVI. 

An Exploring Expedition 

. 197 

XVII. 

The Pirate’s Map 

208 

XVIII. 

Hidden Treasure 

. 212 

XIX. 

A Vacancy in the Tiger Patrol 228 

XX. 

Hinderers and Helpers . 

. 247 

XXI. 

Barney Again . 

. 263 

XXII. 

Applied Patriotism . 

. 283 












I 


A RUNAWAY 

W ILSON HARDING sat in his room 
with a book open before him, but he 
was not reading — his ears were 
strained to catch every sound on the street be- 
low. Now and then he would start up and 
wander restlessly about the room, watching the 
clock, and staring out of the window. At last 
he heard quick footsteps that ceased abruptly, 
and then a low whistle, repeating three notes. 
Wilson ran swiftly down the stairs, but softly 
too, silently opened and closed the front door, 
and joined the boy who stood waiting at the 
foot of the steps. 

“ Oh, Sid,” he whispered, “ I’ve been hoping 
and hoping you wouldn’t go. If you’d only give 
it up! ” 

“ Give it up — now ? I guess not ! ” Sidney 
Hart’s voice rang with triumph, though he too 
spoke low and guardedly. “ If only you’d come 
along with me, old man ! Think what larks we’d 
have — just think!” 

“ I know — it would be jolly if only — oh, well, 
Sid, you know it’s no use to think of it for me, 
and I can’t feel that it’s right for you to sneak 
off this way — I can’t, Sid.” 

9 


10 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

In the darkness the other boy’s face flushed 
red at that word — sneak. He drew himself up 
and there was an angry edge to his voice as he 
answered stiffly, “If you want to stay and waste 
the best years of your life in school, you can. 
As for me — I’m sick of it. I’m going to see 
something of the world and life — real life — my 
boy, now when I can enjoy it most. I must 
settle down by-and-bye into an old plodder like 
father, I suppose, but I’m bound to have my 
fling first. And now I must be off; but say, 
old man, it’s — it’s tough leaving you.” For the 
first time his voice wavered a little as he held 
out his hand to his friend. 

Wilson gripped it hard, but he could not 
speak for the lump that unexpectedly appeared 
in his throat. Sidney understood, however. 

“ I must go,” he muttered, picking up the 
suitcase he had set down on the doorstep, “ or 
I’ll miss my train.” 

“ You — you’ll write, Sidney, sure? ” 

" Sure. Ever know me to break my word ? 
And I know you won’t break yours and tell any 
one where I’ve gone.” 

“ No,” Wilson promised miserably, “ but, oh, 
Sid, think of your father and mother!” 

“ Pshaw ! ” Sidney brushed that hastily aside. 
“ Father has no time to think of anything but 
making more money, and mother’s always 
buried in teas and receptions. They won’t care 
after a bit. Good-bye,” and with a last firm 
grip he turned and marched off without a back- 
ward glance. 


11 


A RUNAWAY 

Wilson watched him out of sight before he re- 
entered the house and crept silently back to his 
room. He felt as though part of himself was 
gone with the boy who had been his chum for 
so many years ; and Sidney, was not doing right — 
Wilson was very sure of that, and that was the 
worst of the whole miserable business. He was 
in bed soon, but he could not sleep. His thoughts 
followed his friend to the station, on the train, to 
the big city where he planned to spend a week 
“ seeing life ” before he went on to the great 
West. 

The next morning Wilson was in his place in 
High School, trying not to see at his side the 
vacant seat that had been Sidney’s. Would Sid- 
ney ever sit there again, he wondered. He was 
glad that it was the day for a written examina- 
tion — there would be less time for these 
wretched thoughts. What was that Mr. Mar- 
shall was saying? Wilson roused himself to 
listen. Mr. Marshall was the new teacher, and 
he had new ways of doing things. Now he 
stood before the class with a piece of chalk in 
his hand. 

“ The motto of this classroom,” he was say- 
ing, “ is to be — this.” Turning, he wrote on 
the blackboard the two words 

“ON HONOURS 

Then he continued, “If any pupil is unwill- 
ing to live up to that motto, he is at liberty to 
withdraw from the class now.” He waited, his 


12 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

glance passing quickly over the intent young 
faces before him. The room was very still. As 
no one moved, he went on, “ I understand, then, 
that you all agree to do your work here — all 
your work — on honour. The papers and ques- 
tions will now be given you, and while you are 
working over them it will make no difference 
whether I am in the room or out of it — there 
will be no necessity for any one to watch you. 
When you have finished your work, you can 
lay the papers on my desk and leave the room. 
Harding and Pierce, you can distribute the lists 
of questions.” 

There was a movement all over the room and 
a swift interchange of glances — some pleased, 
some doubtful, some gloomy — while the papers 
were being distributed. Some of the pupils 
much preferred the old way. Of course a fel- 
low couldn’t get up and leave, and so acknowl- 
edge that he wouldn’t work “ on honour,” but all 
the same 

Mr. Marshall’s eyes read in the faces before 
him, more than their owners^ guessed, but he 
said no more, and when the class was ready for 
work, he quietly left the room. Then again 
there was a little stir and rustle of suppressed 
excitement, and more glances and some low- 
toned remarks were interchanged before the 
class really settled down to work. It was not 
an easy examination. At twelve o’clock many 
of the pupils were still sighing over puzzling 
questions. " Mr. Marshall returning, met Wilson 
Harding in the hall and stopped him to inquire, 


A RUNAWAY 13 

“Where is Sidney to-day, Wilson? Not sick, 
I hope ? ” 

Wilson shook his head. “ N-no, sir,” he 
stammered, and would have passed hastily 
on, but the distress in his face could not 
escape such keen eyes as those of Alan Mar- 
shall. He laid his hand kindly on the boy’s 
shoulder. 

“ I hope there’s nothing — wrong, Wilson. 
Can’t you tell me ? ” 

But Wilson was beyond speech — he could not 
control his trembling lips, and again shaking his 
head, he slipped away from the detaining hand 
and hurried down the stairs. Mr. Marshall 
stood for a moment looking after him. Plainly 
something was wrong with one or both the 
boys. He must find out what it was. He could 
learn nothing from the other boys in the class. 
To his casual inquiry as to the reason of Sidney 
Hart’s absence, nobody made reply. Evidently 
if there was anything wrong, no one in the class 
except Sidney was aware of it. But the trouble 
in Wilson’s face had been too plain to be mis- 
taken. Mr. Marshall could not get it out of his 
mind, and that evening he called at Sidney 
Hart’s home. 

Mr. Hart came down to him at once, saying 
as he greeted his visitor, “ It was kind of you 
to come, Mr. Marshall. You know what trouble 
we are in ? ” 

“ No. I had reason to think there was some- 
thing — about your son, but what, I do not know. 
He is not ill ? ” 


14 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Mr. Hart dropped wearily into a chair. “ No 
— if it were only that ! ” he groaned. “ Sidney 
has gone — run away.” 

“ Run away ! ” Mr. Marshall exclaimed. 
“ Are you sure ? It seems so utterly impossible 
— a boy like Sidney, with everything he could 
want at home ! ” 

“ There is no question about it. He went last 
night, and mailed a note which reached me this 
morning. His mother is heartbroken over it, 
and it is not unlikely that it will cost her 
life. She is to go to the hospital next week 
for a very serious operation. We had not told 
Sidney — we wanted to spare him as long as 
possible, but he has not spared us. The doctor 
says that her grief and worry over the 
boy make the chance of her recovery very 
slight. 

“ Sidney must be found and brought back,” 
Mr. Marshall said gravely. “ Have you any 
idea where he has gone? Surely he can be 
traced.” 

“ He wrote me that he was going out West. 
He wants to 4 see life/ ” There was infinite sad- 
ness in the father’s voice. “ I have put the 
matter in the hands of detectives, but my wife 
— Marshall, she cannot stand this strain many 
days. And if Sidney is not found soon, or if 
he is found and refuses to return ” 

“ Oh, he couldn’t possibly refuse when he 
knows about his mother.” 

Mr. Hart shook his head. “ I don’t know. 
I feel as if I did not know my boy at all. I 


A RUNAWAY 15 

never would have believed he could do such a 
cruel thing/’ 

There was little of comfort to be said, and 
Alan Marshall did not stay long. As he was 
leaving he asked, “ Are you willing that I should 
try to find Sidney, Mr. Hart? I should be so 
glad if I might help you in any way.” 

“ I am grateful for your sympathy,” the other 
answered, “ and I shall be more than grateful if 
you can do anything to bring the boy back. I 

never thought that Sidney was a bad boy ” 

There was grief beyond words in the unfinished 
sentence. 

“ He is not. Don’t think it now, Mr. Hart,” 
Alan Marshall replied quickly. “ This is pure 
boyish thoughtlessness and love of adventure — I 
am sure of it. I will let you know at once if I 
learn anything definite.” 

He went straight to Wilson Harding’s 
home, certain that it was this over which Wil- 
son had been so deeply disturbed. The boy 
himself answered his ring, his cap in his 
hand. 

“ I came to see you, Wilson,” the teacher said. 
“ Will you walk over to my rooms with me? I 
see you were going out.” 

Wilson hesitated. He looked startled, and 
very unhappy. 

“I must have a talk with you, Wilson, either 
here or at my rooms, as you prefer,” Mr. 
Marshall insisted. 

The boy flung a worried glance back into the 
house and spoke almost in a whisper. “ I’ll go 


16 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 
with you,” he agreed, but with evident reluc- 
tance. 

Alan Marshall set off at a pace that brought 
them to his rooms in a few minutes. 

“ Now, Wilson,” he began, pushing forward a 
chair, “ I want you to tell me all you know about 
this affair of Sidney’s.” 

The boy shrank back, his eyes widening nerv- 
ously. “ I can’t, Mr. Marshall, truly I can’t tell 
you a thing. I promised Sid I wouldn’t, and I 
can’t break my word. I promised ‘ on honour ’ 
you know.” He looked pleadingly at his 
teacher. It was such a dreadfully hard place in 
which he found himself. 

Alan Marshall, looking into his miserable face, 
understood the boyish code. He sat for a mo- 
ment, thinking; then he said, “Wilson, you 
know how highly I rate a promise. Any promise 
is ‘ on honour ’ ; but yet there may be circum- 
stances which make it right to break one. Per- 
haps when I tell you that this is probably a 
matter of life and death, you will feel that 
you have no right to keep your word to 
Sidney,” and he repeated what Mr. Hart had 
told him of his wife’s condition. “ In all 
probability, if Sidney does not return at once 
his mother will not live through this illness, 
which would be very serious in any case. Sid- 
ney is not cruel or hard-hearted, you know that. 
If his mother should die at this time, it would 
mean lifelong remorse to him, and might es- 
trange his father entirely from him. You can 
prevent all this — you must, Wilson.” 


A RUNAWAY 17 

The boy sat with his white face propped on his 
hand, his eyes full of miserable uncertainty, star- 
ing at the carpet. 

“ I — I don’t know what to do ! ” he burst out at 
last, moving restlessly in his seat. “ I — Sid’ll 
never forgive me if I go back on my word.” 

“ Will he ever forgive you if you allow him 
to be the cause of his mother’s death?” 

“ I — If ” Wilson stared wildly at his teacher. 
Then he covered his face with his hands, and 
his shoulders shook with his heavy sobbing. 

After a few minutes, Mr. Marshall spoke 
quietly. “ You know where Sidney is, Wilson ? ” 

The boy nodded. 

Again there was silence in the room until Mr. 
Marshall asked, “ Will you do this ? Will you 
go with me to the city where Sidney is? I will 
stop at a hotel and let you go to him alone and 
tell him about his mother. If I know him, he 
will be more than willing to come back — no 
decent boy could refuse under the circumstances. 
I will simply go with you, and not see Sidney at 
all, if you like, unless he should refuse to return 
with you.” 

“ And if he did?” questioned Wilson. 

“ Then,” Alan Marshall spoke sternly, “ if he 
should refuse — which I cannot believe possible — 
I will find some way to compel him to come back 
anyhow. Will you agree to this ? ” 

Wilson thought it over in silence; then he said, 
" Yes, I’ll agree to that. I think it is right.” 

“ I know it is. Can you start to-night? ” 

Wilson nodded. “ If father doesn’t object.” 


18 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ He will not object — I will see him. And 
where are we going, Wilson ? ” 

“ To New York.” 

“ Very well — I’ll phone down for berths in the 
sleeper. We can catch the 10:30, I think, if we 
lose no time. You run home, and I’ll follow as 
soon as I pack my bag — that will take but a few 
minutes.” 

Three-quarters of an hour later the two 
boarded the train for New York. Mr. Harding 
had made not the slightest objection to his son’s 
going when he understood the case ; and he agreed 
to see Mr. Hart at once and let him know what 
was being done. 

Wilson slept very little that night. Sidney was 
a year older than he and his influence over Wil- 
son was very strong. Sidney indeed had almost 
persuaded him to go away too. Perhaps if it 
had not been for his little brother Jack, he might 
have done so; but Jack adored him, and counted 
everything he did just right, so all unconsciously 
it was Jack who had kept him from yielding to 
Sidney’s persuasions. But he had promised Sid- 
ney solemnly to give no hint to any one of his 
whereabouts, and now he had broken that prom- 
ise. What would Sidney say — what would he 
do? Over and over these thoughts repeated 
themselves in his weary brain in the long hours 
while the train rushed through the darkness, now 
and then clattering and jolting to a stop at some 
dimly lighted station. 

It was early when they reached New York, and 
Wilson felt better after breakfast. Then he was 


A RUNAWAY 19 

impatient to be off to the address that Sidney had 
given him. 

“ I can't tell when I'll be back, you know," he 
said as he was leaving, “ for he may be out, and 
in that case I shall have to hang around there 
till he gets back, if it’s all day." 

“ Yes, I understand. I think, however, you’d 
better leave the address with me, Wilson — I must 
know where to look for you in case of need." 

“ Ye-es," Wilson agreed hesitatingly ; and he 
wrote the address on a card which Alan Marshall 
laid face down on the table. Then he stood at 
the window watching the boy as he went down 
the street, wondering if it had been wise to let 
him go off alone; but it was too late to recall 
him, so Mr. Marshall sat down to shorten the 
waiting time by writing some letters. Barely 
two hours had passed, however, when Wil- 
son burst into the room with Sidney at his 
heels. 

“ He’s going back with us, Mr. Marshall — 
he wants to go," Wilson cried, his face beaming 
with satisfaction. 

Sidney’s face flushed as he met his teacher, but 
he spoke frankly. 

“ Of course I’m going back. I’d never have 
left if I’d known about — mother." His voice 
faltered on the last word, but he steadied it and 
hurried on, “ They never let on to me — not a 
word — and how was I to know? It — it was aw- 
fully good of you to come on with Will, Mr. 
Marshall. Can’t we catch the 12:30? That 
won’t get us in till 5." He was plainly anxious 


20 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

to get back at the earliest possible moment. Mr. 
Marshall glanced at his watch. 

“ I think we can make it,” he said. “ Tumble 
the things into your bag, Wilson. And, Sidney, 
you want to wire your father at once, don’t you ? 
Here’s a blank.” 

Sidney snatched it and wrote hastily, “ Re- 
turning on 12 130 train. Love to mother.” 

“ I’ll send this at once, and wait for you down 
in the office. I left my things there,” he said, 
and then the door slammed behind him. 

“ That message will do more than any medicine 
for his mother,” Mr. Marshall declared, as he 
caught up his bag, and two minutes later he fol- 
lowed Wilson from the room. 

It was a very silent trio that went back on the 
12:30 train. To Sidney the hours seemed end- 
less, and Wilson was so tired after his two wake- 
ful, troubled nights that he dozed much of the 
time, while Mr. Marshall mused over the prob- 
lem of Sidney’s future — of what could be brought 
into his life to take the place of those alluring 
visions of free and lawless life in the far West. 
And Sidney Hart was not the only boy whose 
eager energies needed some outlet aside from 
study or even athletics. There were many 
others. 

At the gate leading from the train-sheds Mr. 
Hart met them. His eyes, stern and yet wistful, 
searched his son’s face as he caught him by the 
shoulders. 

“ You came back — willingly?” he demanded, 
his voice harsh with the strain of deep feeling. 


A RUNAWAY 


21 


“ Oh, father! ” cried the boy, his eyes suddenly 
filling. “ Could you think for a moment I 
wouldn’t when I knew about — mother ? ” 

“ I was afraid — afraid,” Mr. Hart muttered, 
holding the boy’s hand with a grasp that made 
him wince. “ Your mother is lying with your 
telegram in her hand, Sidney. She has held it 
every minute since it came.” 

“ When is she going to the hospital ? ” The 
boy asked the question in a voice that his utmost 
effort could not quite steady. 

“ Monday.” Still holding Sidney’s hand as 
if he could not let it go, Mr. Hart turned to 
greet Alan Marshall and Wilson. “ I shall not 
forget what you’ve done for me and for Sid- 
ney,” he said. “ I never forget a kindness.” 
He looked for a moment straight into Wilson’s 
eyes, then patting him lightly on the shoulder, 
added, “ Come — the car is waiting for us outside 
here.” 

As they rolled swiftly down the avenue, they 
passed a company of boys in khaki-coloured uni- 
forms, marching in soldierly fashion, under 
charge of a young man. 

“What’s all that?” Mr. Hart demanded. 

“ Boy Scouts,” Wilson answered quickly. 
“ They march well, don’t they, Sid ? ” 

Sidney nodded absently. His eyes were on 
the Scouts, but his thoughts were hurrying for- 
ward to the sick-room where his mother was 
lying with a slip of yellow paper clasped tightly 
in her hand. 

“ Jack is wild to join the Scouts — my kid 


22 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

brother, you know.” Wilson turned to Mr. 
Marshall. 

“ Why doesn’t he, then ? It’s a fine thing for 
boys — that scout business. I’m going into it 
myself.” 

“ You t Why, I thought it was only for boys 
— mostly little chaps,” said Wilson. 

“ For boys of twelve and over, with men 
of any age as Scout Masters. I am going to be 
a Scout Master, and raise my own troop,” Alan 
[Marshall replied, and Wilson never guessed that 
the decision had been that moment made. 

For Sidney and his father there followed two 
weeks of intense anxiety while the life of the 
wife and mother trembled in the balance; and 
in those days, father and son grew into a closer 
sympathy and understanding. But then Mrs. 
Hart began to creep slowly back to life and 
health, and by degrees things slipped back into 
the old grooves. Mr. Hart, absorbed in many 
important business interests, saw little of his 
son. And Sidney, though much more thought- 
ful and considerate towards his mother than he 
had been before, grew silent and moody, lost 
interest in his school work, and was so indif- 
ferent and unlike his old self that Wilson Hard- 
ing hardly knew whether he was glad or sorry 
that his old chum spent so little time with him. 


II 


THE YOUNGEST SCOUT 

S OME time after their hurried trip to New 
York, Wilson Harding came to Mr. Mar- 
shall at the noon intermission. 

“ You said you were going to raise your own 
troop of Boy Scouts, Mr. Marshall,” he began. 
“ Did you mean to do it soon ? ” 

“ Yes, I’ve already enrolled the first patrol.” 

“ Any of the fellows I know in it? ” 

“ I think not,” Mr. Marshall returned, and 
asked a counter question. “ Do you know any- 
thing of Friendship House? ” 

“ I’ve heard something about it — kind of a 
settlement place, isn’t it — for poor boys?” 

“ And girls — yes. I’ve had a boys’ club down 
there for a year, and I formed my first patrol 
from those boys.” 

“ Oh ! ” Wilson looked disappointed ; then his 
face brightened. “ Any reason why you 
shouldn’t form another patrol from boys in our 
neighbourhood ? ” he asked. 

“ No. Do you know of any boys who want 
to join the Scouts?” 

“ My brother Jack — you remember I told you 
he was crazy to join. You see he’s never been 
very strong — he’s been sick a lot — and the doctor 
23 


24 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

says now he ought to live out of doors as much 
as possible; and he’s coaxed father into letting 
him join the Scouts. Father says he may if I 
join too. He won’t let Jack join unless I’m 
around to look after him.” 

“And you don’t like the idea?” 

“ Well,” Wilson hesitated, “ I had supposed 
it was rather a babyish business until you spoke 
of it the other day, and since then I’ve been 
learning more about it, and it seems to me we 
bigger chaps might get some fun out of it 
too.” ' 

“ I think you could — in fact I’m sure of it. 
And as I told you before, I think it would be 
a fine thing for your brother. Did it ever occur 
to you, Wilson, that you might do something for 
other little fellows besides your own brother ? ” 

The boy looked at him blankly. 

“ I mean that, while you can find a deal 
of amusement and interest for yourself in the 
Scouts, you can also find endless chances to lend 
a hand to all your other little brothers. 4 All 
Scouts are brothers,’ ” he quoted, “ and many of 
them — such chaps as I have in my club and 
patrol for instance — stand greatly in need of 
brotherly help from — somebody.” 

Wilson was silent. Alan Marshall went on, 
“ The ‘ one kindness a day ’ that a Scout is bound 
to do, may easily be made to mean more than 
you can imagine to some of those other boys 
that have no homes — as we know homes.” 

“ But — does a fellow have to be thinking about 
those things if he’s a Scout?” Wilson questioned. 


THE YOUNGEST SCOUT 25 

“ No, he can do his one kindness in his own 
home, or to his own little brother — Jack.” 

The boy flushed a little and shrugged his shoul- 
ders. Social service had no charms for him. 

Alan Marshall changed the subject. “ How is 
Sidney getting on ? Is he contented now ? ” 

“ We-ell, I’m afraid not, exactly,” Wilson ad- 
mitted. “ I think sometimes, Mr. Marshall, that 
one trouble is that Sid doesn’t have enough to 
do. You know he’s so quick and bright — he gets 
his lessons in no time, and — well, he really doesn’t 
know how to fill in all his spare hours. But he 
won’t go off again, I’m sure of that,” he added. 

“ So much is good, anyhow,” Mr. Marshall 
said thoughtfully. “ Wilson, can’t you interest 
Sidney in the Scouts — raise a patrol yourself and 
get him to join? Then with your brother you’d 
have three, and I think you could easily find five 
others among your friends who would like to 
join. If Sidney is so fond of outdoor life, he 
might be attracted by the Saturday tramps and 
the camping out.” 

“ I’ve spoken to him about it, but he didn’t 
seem much interested,” Wilson returned. “ I’ll 
try again, though. And if I raise the patrol, can 
we join your troop? ” 

“ Certainly. I shall be very glad to have you,” 
was the cordial response. 

“ Well, I’ll see what I can do,” Wilson agreed, 
but his manner was not enthusiastic. 

Alan Marshall, however, did not seem at all 
discouraged, nor did he refer to the matter again, 
as Wilson expected that he would do. But Jack 


26 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Harding referred to it very often — so often that 
one day Wilson impatiently exclaimed, “ For 
Heaven’s sake, Jack, give us a rest! You tease 
the life out of me.” That hurt Jack dreadfully, 
and he said no more about the Scouts, but his 
sober face and wistful eyes pleaded for him until 
Wilson gave in, and brought up the subject. 

“ Jack,” he asked one Saturday, “ have you 
given up wanting to be a Scout ? ” 

“ Oh, no, Will,” the boy cried earnestly, “ but 
I’ve given up talking about it ’cause you got mad 
at me. I’d give up anything rather than have 
you mad at me, you know.” 

“ Pshaw, old fellow — I wasn’t mad. You just 
pestered me a little too much about it, that’s all. 
Now then, listen — What would you say if I 

should tell you that ” He stopped with a 

teasing grin at the eager little lad. 

“ Oh, what, what , Will ? Tell me quick.” 

“ 1 had found enough boys to form a — 

patrol?” 

“ Really, Will, oh, have you really? And am I 
in it ? ” Jack was fairly trembling. 

“ Well, I rather think you are. Who else is 
Number Three if not John Everett Harding?” 

Jack flew at his big brother and gave him a 
real bear hug. 

“Gee! But I’ve got the best brother ever l” 
he declared. “ Who else is in it besides you and 
me? And are you leader? Of course you are.” 

“ No, I’m not.” 

Jack’s face fell. “ Oh, you ought to be. 
Who is, then ? ” 


THE YOUNGEST SCOUT 


27 


“ Sid;” 

“Oh!” Jack’s disappointment was evident. 

“ Come now, old man — ■' love me, love my 
dog.’ You know you like Sid.” 

“ Oh, I do,” the little fellow declared, “ of 
course I do, Will, only he isn’t you, and I wanted 
you dreadfully for the patrol leader. And what 
name is our patrol going to have ? ” 

“ That will have to be settled by vote, I 
reckon.” 

“ I s’pose so. I’d like it to be the Eagle Patrol, 
but I guess likely somebody has got that name 
already. Who’ll be our Scout Master, Will?” 

“ Bless my soul, what a question-box you are, 
sonny! The thing isn’t all made and trimmed 
yet. I’ve only got the eight boys — six besides 
you and me — to belong. I think, though, Mr. 
Marshall will be our Scout Master.” 

Jack drew a long breath of pure delight. Then 
he sprang up and hopped around the room on 
one leg, holding up the other with his hand. 

“ Got to do something to celebrate,” he 
laughed, and, oh, Will — you will hurry and 
get it all fixed up, won’t you? I do so want it 
to be real. You see ” — the big eyes in the small 
face were full of a half-wistful joy — “you see, 
I haven’t ever belonged to anything — not even to 
a class in school — and you can’t begin to know 
how much I want to be — to really be — in this. 
You’ll hurry it up as fast as you can, won’t you, 
Will?” 

“ Sure thing, old man,” Wilson promised. 
“ But see here, Jack, you mustn’t count too much 


28 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


on it, don’t you know. You see, all the others 
are over twelve. You know you are just twelve 
and not very strong-, perhaps not strong: enough 
to keep up with the other fellows in the tramps 
and all.” 

At this terrible suggestion Jack looked so ut- 
terly crushed that his brother hastily added, “ But 
we’ll fix it somehow. Maybe we won’t make 
long hikes at first.” 

“ And I’ll grow strong awful fast,” Jack pro- 
tested eagerly, “ I’m sure I will. Maybe it’s be- 
cause I’ve never been out with other fellows that 
I’m not strong like they are.” 

At that Wilson turned his face aside hastily 
lest the boy read too much in his eyes; but he 
vowed to himself that Jack should have all the 
help of every sort that scouting could give him, 
“ If I have to tote him on my back all the way.” 

Jack rattled on eagerly, “ We’ll have to be 
Tenderfoots — feet, I mean — for a month, you 
know, before we can get into the Second Class 
(Jack had studied his “ Scouts’ Manual ” faith- 
fully). But I know all the things you have to 
know to be a Tefiderfoot. I know the sa- 
lute ” He sprang up and stood like a soldier, 

his right hand at his shoulder, thumb and little 
finger touching — the other three fingers raised — 
“ and the oath.” He repeated gravely, 

“‘On my honour I will do my best: 

1. To do my duty to God and my country, and to 
obey the scout law ; 

2. To help other people at all times ; 

3. To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, 
and morally straight.’ 

Shall I give you the law, Will?” 


THE YOUNGEST SCOUT 29 

“ No, no, old chap, that’ll do. I’m sure you 
know it.” 

“ ’Deed I do,” Jack asserted. “ And say, Will, 
I know the other two things — all about our flag 
and how to fly it, and I can tie a reef, clove- 
hitch, bowline, and fisherman’s knot,” he added 
triumphantly. 

“ For Heaven’s sake, where did you learn 
those?” Wilson demanded. 

Jack grinned delightedly at his big brother’s 
genuine amazement. 

“ Ah, ha, I thought I’d s’prise you this time, 
sir. I learned the knots of old Tim down at 
father’s office. He used to be a sailor. He’s 
going to learn me some more knots, too,” Jack 
exulted — “ I mean, teach me. Grammar is so 
hard to remember, isn’t it ! ” 

“ Reckon I’ll have to get you to teach me that 
knot business. The fisherman’s is the only one 
of ’em that I know,” Wilson admitted. 

“ ’Course I’ll teach you — it’s just as easy.” 
Jack’s eyes were shining, though, at the idea of 
his teaching Wilson anything. “ I’m going to 
study up the other things now, so I can be a 
Second Class Scout when the month is ended,” 
he declared. “ Father put ten dollars in the 
bank for me yesterday. You know a Scout 
has to be ‘ thrifty ’ and have some money in the 
bank.” 

“ Scout — Scout — Scout !” cried a gay voice 
from the doorway. “Jack Harding, you’ll turn 
into a Scout if you don’t think of something else 
now and then.” 


30 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Jack’s laugh rang out triumphant. “ That’s 
just what I’m going to do — turn into a Scout,” 
he cried. “ That’s what I’m doing it for, Elsie 
Harding. Wilson’s formed a patrol, and say, 
Elsie, you’ll make us a flag — our patrol flag — 
won’t you ? ” 

“If I can. What is it — like the Stars and 
Stripes?” 

Jack’s face was a study. A Scout must be 
courteous, he remembered, but to think of a girl 
— a girl fifteen years old, too — not knowing that 
a scout patrol flag wasn’t the least bit like the 
national flag. He explained condescendingly. 

“ No, indeed, the patrol flag has no stars or 
stripes. It has a bird or animal in black or some 
colour, sewed on a white flag — or maybe the flag 
isn’t always white — I’m not sure about that. I 
wish our patrol could be the Eagle, or else the 
Owl. The owl signal cry is ‘ Koot-koot-koo.’ ” 

Elsie clapped her hands to her ears. “ Bless 
us and save us,” she cried, “ do keep your signal 
cries for out-of-doors. But I’ll make your 
banner. That’s all girls get out of the jolliest 
things — a chance to do some sewing! ” with 
scornful emphasis on the last word. “ The boys 
have all the fun.” 

The brightness dropped out of Jack’s face as 
Elsie vanished. 

“ That’s so, isn’t it, Will ? ” he said soberly. 
“We fellows do have the biggest share of the 
fun.” 

“ Pshaw ! Don’t worry your head over that,” 
returned Wilson carelessly. “ I reckon the girls 


THE YOUNGEST SCOUT 31 

get just as much fun out of their fudge and 
feathers as we do in other ways.” 

By the time the March winds and sun had 
dried the muddy country roads and gotten them 
into fairly good condition, the Owl Patrol was 
fully organised and equipped. Jack Harding 
was so proud of his uniform that he wanted to 
wear it all the time — his sister Elsie teasingly 
declared that he slept in it — but his mother re- 
joiced, for his new interest was doing more for 
him than the doctors had been able to do. He 
was out of doors much of the time now hunting 
for opportunities for fulfilling the “ one kindness 
a day ” rule — only Jack’s idea of that was “ the 
greatest possible number of kindnesses a day.” 

Sidney and Wilson had a chance one windy 
March afternoon to see a sample of Jack’s scout- 
ing. The two boys were standing on a corner 
where three street car lines met, when' they saw 
a woman fluttering nervously on the opposite 
corner, as she watched for a safe opportunity to 
cross. She was a queer-looking little creature 
in her shabby old-fashioned clothes. The wind 
had tilted her bonnet over one ear, and blown 
loose a lock of stringy grey hair that kept whip- 
ping into her eyes and increased her nervous 
bewilderment. 

“ Say, Sid,” Wilson laughed, “ if you and I 
were model Scouts, I suppose we should go over 
there and convoy that old party across tracks.” 

Sidney looked and shrugged his shoulders. 
“ Excuse me,” he replied. “ There come Grace 
Harley and Belle Arms. You don’t catch me 


32 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


doing a stunt like that for them to giggle over — 
not much ! ” 

Wilson looked at the girls and his faint im- 
pulse died a quick death. If the girls had not 
been there, perhaps 

“ Well, I’ll be jiggered, Sid,” he exclaimed 
the next moment. “ Will you look at that? ” 

Sidney followed his gesture, and saw a 
straight, slender little figure in scout uniform 
stop beside the worried old lady. The drab hat 
was lifted as the boy spoke, and then the little 
fellow carefully guided the old lady across the 
tracks, while she clung to his arm as confidently 
as if he had been a big, burly policeman. Once 
safely over, he stopped a moment, evidently ask- 
ing if he could be of any further assistance ; then 
once more his hat was lifted and he was gone, 
his whistle rising above the rattle of the cars. 

The two big boys on the other corner forgot 
the girls and looked at each other; both their 
faces were red, but it was Wilson who looked 
the most ashamed. 

“Wouldn’t that jar you, now?” he said. 
“ That kid brother of mine is living up to his 
oath all right.” 

“ That kid brother of yours is one to be proud 
of, Will. That was a plucky thing to do — for 
such a frumpy old party as that.” 

“ You’re right. And we — I didn’t have pluck 
enough to do it. But I don’t feel particularly 
proud of myself just now, and that’s a fact.” 

“ Proud ! ” repeated Sidney. “ I’d sell myself 
for thirty cents.” 


Ill 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 
AN MARSHALL, returning one day 



from a long country walk, came upon a 


group of boys gathered in a lonely spot 
on the outskirts of the town. He saw at once 
that they were boys of the poorer class, and 
suspecting that there was mischief of some sort 
afoot, he stopped to investigate. The boys were 
too absorbed to notice him until he was close 
enough to see that there was a fight going on in 
the ring they had formed. He realised at once 
that there was danger in interference, for he 
was one and they were many, and some of them 
were big, lusty lads. The one who seemed to be 
the leader was a well-grown boy of sixteen or 
seventeen, and he whirled around and faced Mr. 
Marshall as soon as he was aware of his presence. 

‘‘Well, what do you want?” he demanded 
with a threatening scowl. 

“ I want to know what is going on here.” 

“ A fight’s goin’ on here, then, and now ye 
know, an’ you can go on about yer own business 
an’ leave us to settle ours,” the big fellow de- 
clared, the light of battle flaming in his eyes — 
his big doubled fists plainly itching to emphasise 
his words. 


33 


34 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

The combat in the ring had evidently been 
interrupted for a moment, but now it began again. 
There was the thud of a heavy blow, followed 
by a shrill scream, and then a sudden hush of 
startled silence. 

As the big fellow turned again to see what 
had happened, Alan Marshall suddenly thrust 
aside two of the boys and forced his way into 
the ring. One boy lay on the ground, silent now 
and motionless; the other stood with clenched 
fists, staring down at him, half exultant, half 
frightened. 

“ He’s jest shammin’,” he cried. 

“ Kick him, Mug — he’ll open his eyes if 
you kick him,” another of the group called 
out. 

As “ Mug ” lifted his foot, Alan Marshall 
caught it, and the owner found himself sprawl- 
ing on the ground. Paying no attention to him, 
Marshall called out in a tone that commanded 
obedience, “ Stand back and give this boy air ! 
Don’t you see he is unconscious? Stand back, 
I say!” 

As the close-packed circle broke, the boys re- 
luctantly moving aside, he knelt beside the boy, 
felt his pulse, and slipped a hand inside his 
ragged shirt. Then he pulled a folding cup 
from his pocket and held it out. “ Get some 
water,” he ordered. “ There’s a brook over yon- 
der across the road. Fill that cup — quick , I tell 
you, if you don’t want this boy to die on yo,ur 
hands.” He was rubbing the boy’s wrists, and 
holding a little bottle to his nose ; but it seemed 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 35 

to all of them an age before the heavy lids lifted 
and the boy stared in dull bewilderment at the 
face bending over him. 

“Feel better, don’t you?” Mr. Marshall said 
quietly. 

The boy did not answer. His eyes wavered 
along the line of intent faces staring down at 
him till he saw that of his late antagonist; then 
he winced and muttered in a thick voice, “ I said 
’nough ’fore ye batted me that last one.” 

“Did he? Did he say * ’nough,’ Mug?” the 
big fellow demanded, facing the other boy. 

Mug scowled and was silent, but several voices 
answered for him. 

“ Yes.” 

“ He did, Barney.” 

“ He sure did, but you was talkin’ to 

him ” with a nod towards Alan Marshall, 

“ an’ you didn’t hear.” 

Mug glared back at Barney now with a scowl 
as black as his own. 

“Well, what of it? ’Twas my fight, anyhow. 
An’ he deserved all I give him an’ more — a lot 
more.” 

He transferred his scowl, with a threat in his 
voice, to the boy still lying on the ground. 

Alan Marshall took a tiny vial from his pocket, 
and telling the boy to open his mouth, laid a little 
tablet on his tongue. As he did so, the two who 
had gone for water came running back with a 
brimming cupful. The boy drank some of it, and 
then lifted himself on one elbow. 

“ I c’n get up now,” he muttered. 


36 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Better lie there a few minutes longer,” Mar- 
shall said as he rose to his feet. He turned sud- 
denly to the boy called “ Mug,” whose bruised 
face, with one rapidly swelling eyelid, showed 
that his victory had not been easily won. “ You,” 
he said, “ will take this boy home on the car — it 
will be all he can do to walk to the car-line.” 
He held out two tickets. “ You are largely re- 
sponsible for this, and it’s up to you to see that 
he gets home all right, otherwise there’ll be seri- 
ous trouble for you — you can take my word for 
that.” 

Mug looked startled. His eyes questioned 
Barney, who nodded. 

“ G’long wid him,” he commanded gruffly, “ an* 
you, too, Billy,” he added to another. 

Alan Marshall helped the injured boy to his 
feet. “ You’ll be all right in the morning,” he 
said cheerfully. “ Don’t hurry. If you miss the 
first car there’ll be another along in ten minutes.” 
Then as the three started off, he turned to 
Barney and spoke again with authority. “ Send 
the others ahead — I want a word with you.” As 
the boy hesitated, he added, “ I’ll not keep you 
many minutes — you can easily overtake them; 
but it will be best for your own sakes to do as 
I say. You may get into serious trouble over 
this fight. That boy has a weak heart. He must 
not fight again. Do you understand ? ” 

“ Aw — well — g’wan, all of ye. I’ll be wid ye 
in a bit,” the big fellow ordered, but with evident 
reluctance. Then again he faced the man who 
had interfered and growled out, “ Now say yer 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 37 

say an’ be done wid it. But I ain’t believin’ all 
that rot about Scud Smith — an’ you needn’t think 
it. He’s a dirty little ” 

“ Stop ! Keep your tongue to decent words 
when you talk to me.” 

Barney drew a long breath, and once more the 
light of battle flashed in his eyes. “ Fer a cent 
I’d lay you out,” he declared, his big fists tight 
clenched. “ I could do it — easy.” 

“ There may be two opinions about that,” re- 
turned Alan Marshall quietly, “ but fighting is 
not my favourite amusement. As to that boy, I’m 
enough of a doctor to know what I’m talking 
about. His heart is weak, and if you ever again 
allow him to fight when you can prevent it you’ll 
be responsible — and you may quite likely be held 
on a charge of manslaughter. Was this beautiful 
exhibition gotten up for the amusement of you 
and your gang? ” 

“ No, it wasn’t ! ” retorted Barney in a sullen 
growl. 

“ What was it for, then ? Why did you allow 
it? I suppose you are the leader of this prom- 
ising gang.” 

Barney was no fool. He understood the scorn 
in the quietly spoken words and his face darkened 
again. 

“ So I am, then — the boss of this gang. What 
you goin’ to do about it ? ” He stared defiantly 
into the face of the man. 

“ I don’t know. It will depend somewhat upon 
you. You haven’t told me why — since you claim 
to have some control over this crowd — why you 


38 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

permitted the boy you call ‘ Mug ’ to punish a 
boy nearly to death.” 

“ Scud on’y got what was cornin’ to him — he 
deserved it.” 

“ What had he done?” 

“ I s’pose you’ll keep on a-pryin’ till you find 
out,” snarled Barney, “ so I’ll tell ye an’ be done 
wid it. He’d knocked down Humpy Boyce an’ 
kicked him — broke a rib fer him, he did — an’ 
Humpy can’t fight, so Mug fit for him; an’ he 
had a right to — Hump’s his brother. I stood by 
to see fair play. Now you satisfied?” 

“ Not quite, though you’ve changed my opinion 
of both yourself and Mug somewhat. This 
Hump, as you call him, is a cripple ? ” 

By a swift, indescribable gesture, Barney made 
it clear that the boy was a humpback. 

“ I see. Well, Barney,” the smile with which 
Alan Marshall looked at the boy now wrought 
a sudden change in the sullen, defiant face — a 
greater change than Barney himself was at all 
aware of. 

“ I’ve got to go,” he muttered and started off. 

“ One minute.” Mr. Marshall put out a de- 
taining hand. “ Barney, I’m glad to know you. 
I believe there’s the making of a fine man in you, 
and I’d like to see more of you.” He took out 
a card and slipped it into the boy’s pocket. 
“ That has my name and address. If ever you 
feel that you’d like to see me again, you’ll find 
me at home most evenings. Every boy has 
troubles and puzzles of his own. If you should 
ever have any that I can help you settle. I’d be 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 39 

very glad to do it. I’ve had a great deal to do 
with boys, and I haven’t forgotten how it seems 
to be one. Good-bye till next time.” 

He held out his hand. Somewhat to his own 
surprise, Barney took it, and the next moment 
he found himself alone, looking after the tall 
figure swinging down the street. 

“ Well ! Blame me ’f I know,” he muttered, 
shaking his head, “ why I ain’t ready to bat him 
over the eye — but I ain’t.” 

A shrill, impatient call from the rest of the 
gang, who were waiting for him some way fur- 
ther on — aroused him from his puzzled wonder- 
ings, and he set off at a pace that rivalled Alan 
Marshall’s. 

That gentleman, as he went on, was making a 
mental note of the names he had caught — Barney, 
Scud Smith, Mug, Billy, and one or two others. 
Doubtless through the Friendship House club 
boys he could find out something about these 
others. He wanted to get hold of them all — 
even that brutal-looking “ Mug.” After all, it 
was not his own battle Mug was fighting, but 
that of a helpless brother. And Barney, with 
his rough red head, his freckles, his savage 
scowl, and his tongue all too used to oaths — 
what a splendid fellow might be made out of 
him with his strength and force, and power over 
his fellows, if only — ah, if only! Alan Marshall 
sighed as he thought how strong a grip the 
powers of evil already had on Barney. 

At Friendship House the next evening he got 
the information he wanted. Many of the boys 


40 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

knew big Barney Doyle, the leader of the “ Alley 
gang ” — the toughest gang in the city. Some of 
the workers at Friendship House — men who had 
worked there much longer than had Alan Mar- 
shall — knew all about Barney. For years they had 
been trying to get him into some of the clubs ; 
for, if he could be brought in, many others of the 
gang would undoubtedly follow ; but Barney had 
always scornfully scoffed at all efforts in his 
behalf. The most alluring entertainments — occa- 
sions where ice cream and cake were free to all — 
not even these could Barney be induced to attend. 
His one ambition, it seemed, was to be the 
“ Alley Boss,” and his rule over his followers 
was rigid. None ventured to rebel — none had 
ever yet been persuaded to withdraw from his 
gang. “ Once a member, always a member,” 
seemed to be the watchword; and the gang was 
growing in numbers and in daring. As these 
things were repeated to Alan Marshall by dif- 
ferent ones at the settlement, his hope of a 
voluntary visit from Barney Doyle grew faint ; 
and as the weeks slipped away, he almost forgot 
this one boy — there were so many others with 
their needs and problems always pressing for 
attention. So it was with almost incredulous sur- 
prise that one evening he opened his door and 
found Barney Doyle standing there — on his 
homely face a queer mixture of uncertainty and 
boldness with a suggestion of anxiety under- 
neath. He swaggered in and flung himself into 
a chair with an air of condescension. 

“ I’m glad to see you again, Doyle. I’ve 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 41 

thought of you many times since that day we 
met. How are Smith and Mug and Billy ? ” 

“ All right/’ returned the boy, twisting his 
cap in restless fingers. “Ye seem t’ve got our 
names mighty pat.” This with a grin, half 
friendly, half defiant. 

“ Oh, yes, I had no trouble in learning all about 
you.” 

Instantly the boy’s grin turned to a scowl. 
Under lowered lids he furtively studied Alan 
Marshall’s face, ready to resent any “ preach- 
ing.” But there was none for him to resent. 
The man waited for him to say why he had 
come, and Barney seemed to find some difficulty 
in saying it, but at last he began: 

“ Say — you’re one o’ them teacher fellers, ain’t 
ye?” 

“ I am a teacher — yes. How did you know 
that?” 

Barney brushed the inquiry aside with easy 
scorn. “ The’s plenty ways to find out things. 
The’s one o’ my gang got in trouble in the school 
he goes to. They say he’s been cribbin’ things — 
books an’ things — an’ sellin’ ’em, an’ they’re goin’ 
to nab him.” 

“ And has he been stealing? ” 

“ Aw, what’s that got to do wid it — whether 
he has er not? The thing is, to keep ’em from 
nabbin’ him. You said you’d help, any time. 
Now’s yer chance.” 

“ I said I’d help you. That doesn’t mean that 
I will try to prevent a thief from getting what 
he deserves.” 


42 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


Barney’s face darkened and he sprang up. 
“ That’s all yer talk’s good fer, then,” he flung 
out bitterly, making a bolt for the door, but Alan 
Marshall stopped him. 

“ Wait a bit, Doyle. Sit down again, and let’s 
talk this over. Of course you don’t think it’s 
right for a boy to steal ? ” 

“ That ain’t got nothin’ to do with it.” 
Barney’s tone was obstinately final, but he re- 
turned to his seat. 

“ Oh, yes, it has much to do with it. For 
instance, there’s a big difference between a starv- 
ing man stealing a loaf of bread and a boy 
stealing books because he wants some money 
to spend — for moving-picture shows or the 
like.” 

“ ’Twarn’t so ! ” 

“What wasn’t so, Barney?” 

“ He didn’t steal ’em ’cause he wanted money 
to spend fer fun.” 

“ What, then ? Barney, if you and I are to be 
friends — I mean if I am to try to help you — you 
must tell me the whole story.” 

Barney searched the young man’s face with 
a long, keen glance. Then he considered in si- 
lence. Finally he said abruptly, “ I’ll tell ye, 
then. I know ye won’t split on him, anyhow.” 

“ No one else shall know a word of what you 
tell me without your permission,” Alan Marshall 
promised. 

“ Well, then — ’twas this way. The boy’s Billy 
Burns. He don’t live anywhere in partic’lar — 
jest hangs ’round like — an’ last winter he got 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 43 

sick, sleepin’ out cold nights with nothin’ but 
newspapers fer coverin’. He was mighty sick, 
too. An old woman found him an’ took him in, 
an’ kep’ him till he got well. The gang helped 
what we could, but she did the nussin’. She’s 
a scrubwoman, an’ now she’s sick an’ Billy saw 
’twas up to him to help her out. He blacks 
boots an’ sells papers, but he goes to school, so 
his only workin’ time is after school an’ evenin’s ; 
so he don’t earn an awful lot. One day in school 
he found a scarfpin an’ sold it ; an’ that was easy 
money, so he kep’ on. The woman’s gettin’ 
better now — he wouldn’t ’a’ had to pick up extrys 
that way no longer ; but now they’ve spotted him 
an’ they’re after him.” 

“Barney, did he use for this poor woman all 
he got by stealing? Tell me the truth.” 

“ Sure he did, an’ all he earned, too, ’cept what 
he had to have fer eatin’s— an’ us fellers helped 
out on that all we could.” 

“ Where is he now ? ” 

A cunning expression flashed into Barney’s 
face. He winked one eye, and sticking his tongue 
into his cheek, remarked, “ I ain’t a-tellin’.” 

“ You mean he’s hiding? ” 

“ He’s keepin’ out o’ sight— fer his health,” 
Barney replied with a grin. 

Alan Marshall considered the matter— a dif- 
ficult case, surely. 

“ You see, don’t you, Barney, that he was alto- 
gether wrong to get money in this way even to 
help one to whom he owed so much ? ” 

“ It was a fool way — he was sure to get nabbed 


44 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


if he kep’ on long enough/’ Barney assented 
coolly. 

Alan Marshall shook his head. It was alto- 
gether the wrong point of view, of course, but 
evidently this was not the time to try to convince 
Barney of that. The boy’s patience was, quite 
plainly, wearing thin. He twisted uneasily in 
his chair ; then, “ If ye can’t do nothin’ I’ll be 
goin’,” he said. 

Mr. Marshall detected the discouragement and 
disappointment in his voice. “ Wait a little,” he 
said, “ let me think.” Then he looked straight 
into the boy’s eyes. “Barney, you wouldn’t 
tell me a thing like this if it were not true? 
I can trust your word?” 

“ I ain’t a liar ! ” Barney flung back instantly, 
and the tone in which he spoke and the look in 
his eyes were convincing. 

“ No, I’m sure you are not,” Mr. Marshall 
replied. “ I believe what you have told me, and 
I’ll do my best to help Billy.” 

“ When ? ” demanded Barney. 

“ To-morrow. Tell me his teacher’s name, and 
the school.” 

Barney gave them. 

“And now where can I find the woman to 
whom Billy gave the money ? ” 

At that, Barney’s face darkened again with 
swift suspicion. 

“You goin’ to her to see ’f I’m lyin’?” he 
demanded. 

Alan Marshall smiled into the angry face. 
“ Not a bit of it, Barney. I know you are telling 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 45 

me. the truth ; but Billy’s teacher and others that 
I have to see don’t know you, and I must have 
proof to give them if I am going to help Billy. 
Do you see ? ” 

Barney saw, and the suspicion died out of his 
eyes. He gave the name and address. Then — 
“ How’ll I know ? ” he demanded. 

“ You can come here Friday evening.” 

“ All right.” Barney sprang up, bolted for the 
door, and was gone. 

The next day, leaving his own classroom early, 
Alan Marshall hunted up the scrubwoman, and 
then went to the grade school to see Billy’s 
teacher. Billy’s teacher had little good to say 
of the boy. He was dull, obstinate, and untidy. 
On the playground — which was the street — he 
went generally “ with a chip on his shoulder.” 
In fact, fighting was the only thing in which he 
excelled. And as to the thefts of which he was 
accused, he was unquestionably guilty. The only 
place for him was the reform school — so his 
teacher declared with conviction. 

“ And in the reform school he would be thrown 
with other boys already labelled incorrigible, who 
would teach him all the evil he has not already 
learned,” said Alan Marshall. 

“ And that’s little enough,” the teacher fin- 
ished. 

“ But wait a moment,” said the other. “ This 
boy, you say, is dull, sullen, and quarrelsome — 
and untidy. Did you know that he has no home 
but the streets ? How can such a boy keep him- 
self clean? How can he be quick, bright, good- 


46 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

natured — when half the time he is hungry? 
When his papers are left on his hands, or he gets 
no shoes to ‘ shine/ his pockets are empty and 
his stomach, too. Is it any wonder, then, that 
he is ugly and quarrelsome ? And as to the thefts 
— don’t they seem a little less black when we 
know that he stole for one even more needy than 
himself — one who had helped him when there 
was no one else to help? ” 

“ But did he ? Do you know that, Mr. Mar- 
shall?” 

“ Yes, I have seen the woman for whom he 
stole. She did not know at the time how he came 
to be so ‘ flush/ as she said, but the money was 
unquestionably spent mostly, if not altogether, 
for her.” 

Billy’s teacher looked thoughtful — in fact dis- 
tinctly disturbed and remorseful. “ If I’d only 
known all this before ! ” she said. “ But it is 
impossible to know all about my pupils when I 
have so many.” 

“ That is very true. But now that you do 
understand this case, don’t you think we ought 
to give Billy one more chance ? ” 

“ I wish we could. But when a boy once gets 
the habit of stealing, it is so hard to break him 
of it!” 

“ I know. We can’t. We must try to find a 
way to make him break himself of it. Now I 
am ready to pay for all that Billy has stolen 
here; but understand, Miss Marvin, I am only 
lending him this money; he must pay it back to 


THE SCOUT MASTER AND BARNEY 47 

“ How can he — earning so little as you say 
he does? ” 

“ Perhaps we can help him to earn more, but 
he must repay me for the sake of his own self- 
respect. It won’t do to kill a boy’s self-respect — 
I’ve found that out.” 

“ Well,” agreed Miss Marvin, “ I’m quite will- 
ing to admit that I feel very differently towards 
Billy now, Mr. Marshall, and I’ll do anything I 
can to help him. But you will have to see the 
supervisor and probably some members of the 
school board — since the matter has been re- 
ported to them.” 

So to the supervisor, and then to the president 
of the board, Alan Marshall went, and in both 
cases he was successful in creating an interest 
in Billy Burns, and he went home with the 
promise that the boy should be given another 
chance. 


IV 


BILLY 

B ARNEY appeared early on Friday even- 
ing and hardly waited to be seated before 
he demanded, “ How about Billy ? ” 

“ Billy is to have another chance,” Alan Mar- 
shall answered, “ but, Barney, this will be his 
last chance in the school, and he must make 
good. Do you understand ? He must ” 

Barney nodded. 

“ Maybe you know,” Mr. Marshall went on, 
“ how hard it is for a boy to break himself of 
the habit of stealing; and it must be broken off 
entirely.” 

Again Barney nodded. “ I know,” he said. 
“ He’s got to be on the square now.” 

“ It will be a hard fight for him, and you and 
I must stand by him, Barney. He must not 
go to the reform school if we can help it.” 

“ It’s a bum place — that school,” Barney 
agreed, and added abruptly, “ I’ll be off now — 
Billy’ll be waitin’ fer me.” With his hand on 
the doorknob, he turned and mumbled 
“ Thank-y.” 

“ Wait a moment, Barney,” said the Master. 
“ I want to see Billy. I’m trying to find some 
48 


BILLY 


49 


better work for him, and he cannot keep on 
sleeping in the streets. Can you get him to 
come here to-morrow night ? ” 

“ Yep. I’ll tell him he’s got ter — he’ll come. 
’Night,” and Barney was gone. 

The Master was not sure that Barney would 
be able to persuade Billy to come, but the next 
evening, hearing a shuffling step outside his door 
— he had left the outer door ajar — he opened it, 
and found a boy prowling uncertainly about the 
hall. 

“ I — didn’t know — which door ” he stam- 

mered. “ I’m Billy Burns.” 

“ Yes, I remember you. I saw you that day 
of the fight. Come in, Billy,” the Scout Master 
said, pulling forward a chair for the boy. 

He was a forlorn figure, dirty, ragged, and 
hungry-looking. His shoes, much too big for 
him, were so broken that his bare feet could be 
seen through the holes, and one sole hung loose, 
flapping with each step. He sat down on the 
edge of the chair as if ready to slink away at a 
second’s notice, and his eyes searched the corners 
with swift, furtive glances, as if he suspected 
a lurking enemy ready to pounce out upon him. 
At first it was impossible to make him talk. 
Whether he was embarrassed or obstinate or sim- 
ply dull, Alan Marshall could not tell; but he 
looked hungry, so the Master brought out a plate 
of sandwiches and. some lemonade. Billy’s eyes 
glistened, and with incredible speed he ate one 
sandwich after another until the plate was empty. 
Then, “ Them was bully ! ” he said by way of 


50 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

thanks, as he wiped his mouth on the dirty sleeve 
of a very ragged jacket. 

“ Billy, did you ever take a shower-bath ? ” the 
Master inquired with a friendly smile. 

“ N-nop. I go’n the river, though.” 

“ Come in here — I want to show you my 
shower,” said the Master. 

Doubtfully, half suspiciously, Billy followed 
into a bathroom of the most complete modern 
style. “ Gee ! ” he ejaculated as he looked around 
at the white tiling and shining metal. 

“ Don’t you want to try the shower ? I’ll show 
you how it works. See — just turn that. Now, if 
you’d like, you can take a hot bath and scrub in 
the tub here, and then a cold shower after it. 
It will make you feel fine. And when you are 
ready to dress, I have some linen and a suit that 
I think will about fit you, and be more comfort- 
able than the clothes you have on. I know 
you have no one to wash or mend for you, 
Billy.” 

Billy stood staring in dumb amazement while 
the Master spoke — then without ceremony he 
began stripping off his dirty rags. Alan Mar- 
shall set the water running in the tub, laid out 
soap, washcloth, and towels, and went out, and 
soon he heard a joyous splashing, followed pres- 
ently by the patter of the shower. Then the 
door of the bathroom opened, and a clean white 
arm appeared and raked in the clothing that had 
been laid ready there. 

When Billy appeared again he looked several 
shades lighter. His wet hair, sleek and shining, 


BILLY 


51 

clung tightly to a head that was held hi§jji with 
a new air of self-respect. He stood for a mo- 
ment looking down at his clothes; then he went 
slowly across the room and sat down. 

“ It’s so — I feel jest fine ! ” he declared. “ Say, 
mister ” — he held out his right hand and looked 
down at it solemnly — •“ I never knowed it felt so 
good to be clean — clothes an’ all.” Then yet 
more slowly he added, “ I’ll — keep — my — hands 
— clean — after this, if I can.” 

The Scout Master was quick to gather what 
the boy was trying to say. He grasped the clean 
hand and held it in both his as he answered, “ I 
understand, Billy. You’ve never had a fair 
chance before, but you’re going to have one. 
You are one of my boys now, and I always look 
after my boys.” He put one hand under Billy’s 
chin, tipping the wet head back so that he could 
look deep into the blue eyes. “ Billy, you’ve got 
a hard fight before you at school. I mean, you’ve 
got to live down your past record and make a 
new one. Will you ? ” 

Billy stood motionless, his eyes held by that 
steady compelling glance. It seemed a long 
time that he stood so before he said slowly, “If 

I don’t ” He left the sentence unfinished. 

There was no need to say more. 

“ Now, Billy,” said the Master, “ you can go, 
but I’m going to ask you to do one thing for 


“ I’ll do it ! ” Billy broke in fervently. 

“ I want you to come here to see me once every 
;week. Will you do that?” 


52 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“WJ11I? You bet I will.” Billy’s eyes sought 
the plate that had held the sandwiches. 

“ And, see here,” added the Scout Master, 
“ you are not to sleep any more in the streets. 
I saw Mrs. Carter to-day, and I’ve arranged for 
you to have that little room of hers. You can 
go back to school Monday, and the next time 
you come here there is a matter of business I 
want to talk over with you.” 

Billy nodded, and then Billy’s feet, in good 
comfortable shoes, clattered noisily down the 
stairs, and a moment later a blithe whistle floated 
up from the street. 

“ I hope,” said the Master aloud, as his glance 
followed the boyish figure down the street, head 
lifted and hands in pockets, “ I hope I’ve made 
a break in Barney’s gang. If I can keep hold of 
Billy, maybe I’ll get Barney, too, after a while, 
and that might mean all the rest of the gang. 
But that’s too much to hope for — yet.” 

He went across to the bathroom, gathered up 
Billy’s discarded rags with the tongs and dropped 
them out of the window, to be dumped into the 
refuse barrel in the back yard. Then he rang 
for a maid to clean the bathroom, which looked 
as if a young whale had been frolicking there, 
and a very dirty young whale at that. 

The Scout Master waited with some doubt to 
see if Billy Burns would come as he had prom- 
ised, the next week. He did come — not in such 
a state of shining cleanliness as when last seen, 
yet vastly cleaner than he was wont to be. But 
no cheerful whistle announced his arrival, and 


BILLY 53 

there was discouragement in the droop of his 
shoulders when he came in. 

“ Sit down, Billy, and tell me what’s the 
trouble,” the Master said as he took the boy’s 
limp hand in his warm grasp. Billy had not yet 
learned how to shake hands. 

The boy dropped into the chair with a long 
sigh. “ It’s de gang, an’ school — an’ every- 
thing.” 

“ What’s wrong at the school ? ” 

“ The fellers. They twit me an’ call me t’ief. 

I wouldn’t care a ” He caught himself up 

quickly, biting his tongue to keep the bad word 
from tumbling out — “ I wouldn’t care if I could 
on’y pitch in an’ lick ’em all, but you say I can’t 
fight, an’ what’s a feller to do? I can’t always 
stand the naggin’ — you know I can’t. Some 
day I’m a-goin’ to get so bustin’ mad that I can’t 
stop meself, an’ give some o’ them what’s cornin’ 
to ’em alright. ’N’ then,” he added dolefully, 
“ you’ll think I’m — what they say I am.” 

“ I shall never think that, Billy, and I shall 
never give you up. Didn’t I tell you that I al- 
ways stand by my boys? If it gets so bad you 
really can’t endure it any longer, I’ll send you to 
some other place where you can begin all over 
again. But then you couldn’t come here to talk 
things over with me. And, besides — Billy, men 
have to fight hard things and you’ll be a man 
before you know it.” 

Billy’s face brightened a trifle, and the droop- 
ing shoulders straightened. “ I reckon I c’n 
stand it,” he declared; then again the shadow 


54 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

darkened his face. “ But it’s de gang, too,” he 
added gloomily. “ They won’t leave me be, an’ 
— an’ I can't run with de gang no more — 
now.” 

“ Why not, Billy? ” 

Billy wriggled uneasily in his seat, looking 
everywhere but at his new friend. 

“ I — jest — can’t, ye know,” he muttered. 

“ Don’t you want to, Billy ? ” 

Billy nodded emphatically. “ That’s what’s the 
matter — want to too much,” he returned. 

“ Then why can’t you ? ” 

The boy cast a quick, searching glance at the 
face of the man opposite him; then again his 
gaze wandered and he was silent. 

“ Is it because the gang does things that you 
think now you ought not to do? ” 

Billy’s head bobbed again. 

“ Can you tell me what kind of things ? ” 

Billy considered. Then he answered slowly, 
and with evident reluctance, “ S’loons — crap — 

an’ — an’ ” A red flush sweeping slowly over 

his face hinted at some of the things he left un- 
mentioned. “ They keep after me all the time,” 
he ended miserably, “ an’ — an’ they’re the on’y 
fellers I got to go with. They’re me friends !’ 

A swift inspiration came to the Scout Master. 
“ Billy, do you know anything about the Boy 
Scouts ? ” he asked. 

Billy looked mildly interested. “ Seen some 
of ’em marchin’ up the avenue, in uniform, one 
day. Why?” 

“Would you like to belong to them?” 


BILLY 


55 


Billy sat bolt upright now, his eyes widening 
in sheer amazement. 

“Me? I couldn’t be in anythin’ like that — 
me ! ” he gasped. 

“ Yes, you can, if you want to. I am a Scout 
Master, and there’s a vacancy in one of my 
patrols. There are eight boys in each patrol, 
and those in this one live down in your neigh- 
bourhood. If you join the Scouts, I think you’ll 
find it easier to keep away from the gang, and 
I’m very sure you’ll have a great deal more real 
fun than you ever had in the gang. What do 
you say ? ” 

“ Won’t they twit me — like the fellers do to 
school ? ” 

“ I don’t think they will — certainly not nearly 
as much.” 

“ What do they do b’sides dress up an’ 
march? ” 

The Scout Master took from a drawer a small 
illustrated booklet and handed it to the boy. 
“ That tells all about scouting, and if you con- 
clude you’d like to join us, I’ll try to fix it for 
you. You don’t have to, you know — you can do 
just as you like about it. I’m going to take my 
troop into the country Saturday. If you want to, 
you can go along with me then and see how 
you like it. If, after that, you don’t think you’d 
care to belong, why, you needn’t, of course.” 

“ Anyway, I couldn’t git the togs,” Billy mut- 
tered, his longing eyes studying the picture of 
a group of boys gathered about a campfire. 

“ Never mind the uniform. If you don’t join 


56 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

you won’t want one, you know ; besides, Scouts 
don’t have to wear the uniform. Think you could 
eat some ginger cakes, Billy ? ” 

Billy grinned. “ I could try,” he answered. 

As he munched the cakes Alan Marshall 
brought out, he turned over the leaves of the 
little book and asked many questions. But sud- 
denly he closed the book, with a sigh. “ ’Tain’t 
no use. Barney wouldn’t let me — I was fergettin’ 
Barney,” he said gloomily. 

“ Why wouldn’t he let you ? ” 

“ ’Cause he’s the gang leader, yer know — 
Barney. He ain’t lettin’ any of ’em get into any- 
thin’ else. And — he’s been square wid me — 
Barney has.” 

“ Perhaps I might be able to persuade him. 
Do you see him every day ? ” 

Billy nodded. “ Barney’s all right — he is,” he 
declared loyally. 

“ I like Barney,” the Scout Master agreed. 
“ Will you tell him I’d like to see him to-morrow 
evening, if he can come here? ” 

“ I’ll tell him. Guess I must go now.” Billy 
rose, glancing at the remaining cakes. 

With a smile the Scout Master slipped the 
cakes into the boy’s pocket. 

“ We’ve had a nice talk to-day, haven’t we, 
Billy?” he said. “And we’ll have another next 
week. And don’t forget — we all have to fight 
just as hard things as those you are up against, 
so you must stick it out — like a man.” 

Billy nodded again. “ I’m a-stickin’,” he de- 
clared, and departed. 


V 


A COUNTRY HIKE 

S ATURDAY was fair and warm — an ideal 
May day — and at half-past eight twenty- 
three boys in uniform were waiting at 
Alan Marshall’s door. Twenty-three hands gave 
the scout salute as the Master appeared, and 
twenty-three pairs of eyes opened in surprise at 
sight of the boy who followed close at the Mas- 
ter’s heels. 

“ This is one of my friends — Billy Burns. He 
goes with us to-day as my guest, and I know you 
will all help him to have a royal good time — a 
real Scout’s good time,” the Scout Master said. 

Some of the boys nodded, but doubtfully, to 
the stranger. Only Jack Harding smiled into his 
face and held out a friendly hand. 

“ You’ll want to join, too,” he assured Billy. 
“ It’s the best fun ever. We’re the Owl Patrol 
— see ? ” He pointed to the banner his sister had 
made. 

The Scout Master gave the order, and at once 
the boys fell into line and swung off, their ban- 
ners waving in the breeze. 

Jack Harding was bursting with excitement, 
for this was the first time he had been allowed 
to start with the troop for a long tramp. Al- 
57 


58 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

ways before, to his intense mortification, he had 
had to go by car or carriage the greater part 
of the way, only joining the others for the lunch 
and resting-time; but he was so much stronger 
now that he was going to walk all the way. Jack 
was the youngest in the troop and the prime 
favourite. When he held out his thin little hand 
and smiled that radiant smile straight into a fel- 
low’s eyes, there wasn’t a boy who could resist 
him. Will Harding’s “ kid brother ” they called 
him — Kid, for short. 

The Boy Scout idea had found quick favour, 
and there were already many patrols in the city. 
Two had been formed of High School boys, with 
a sprinkling of their younger brothers from the 
eighth grade schools. These two patrols — the 
Owls and the Panthers — with the boys from 
Friendship House, whose symbol was the Tiger, 
made up Alan Marshall’s troop. The boys of the 
Owl Patrol had been friends and neighbours all 
their lives ; but the Panthers were a different set, 
and the Scout Master had begun to anticipate 
some trouble from one or two of these boys, but 
thus far all had gone smoothly. 

The boys talked and whistled as they marched, 
but always their eyes were busy, for to-day they 
were to notice the trees. ‘ The one who could note 
and name the greatest variety on the walk, and 
describe peculiarities of trunk, leaf, and growth, 
would win an honour. 

“ Know the names of any of these trees, 
Billy ? ” the Master questioned, as Billy kept step 
at his side. 


A COUNTRY HIKE 59 

The boy shook his head. “ On’y apple trees 
an’ chestnuts,” he said. 

“ You’ll know a lot more than that before 
you come back to-night. I’ll show you the dif- 
ferent kinds as we come across them. Let’s begin 
with this maple.” The Master reached up and 
broke off a leaf. “ Look at that closely so you’ll 
know a maple leaf next time. Then put it in 
your pocket and we’ll see it again later. Now 
this is a pin oak.” 

So the lesson went on as they walked, the boy 
mostly silent, but missing nothing that was said 
or done. At the end of each half hour there was 
a five-minute rest — mainly for Jack, though he 
never guessed that ; then the march was resumed. 
It was approaching noon when they reached the 
place that had been selected for the noon rest 
and camp. Banners and staves were stacked 
against a tree and the Scout Master gave his 
orders. Some boys were to gather brush for a 
fire — for what would a camp be without a fire 
even on a mild May day? — some to build the 
fire, some to bring water from the nearest well. 

“Jack, I wish you would sit down here in 
the shade and tell Billy about some of our good 
times ? He doesn’t know as much as you do 
about scouting,” the Master said, seeing that 
Jack needed to rest. 

Jack’s hand went up to his forehead in the 
salute, then he beckoned Billy to a seat under a 
big chestnut. “ I wanted to help make the camp- 
fire,” he confided to the other boy in a confiden- 
tial tone, “ but you know Scouts, like soldiers. 


60 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

always obey orders, and I’ll be glad to tell you 
about the jolly good times we have. You’re 
going to join, aren’t you? ” 

“ I d-know.” 

“ Oh, you must — you’ll miss so much if you 
don’t. Why, do you know, I was such a good- 
for-nothing chap — always sick, and couldn’t do 
things like other fellows — till I joined the 
Scouts; and now I’m growing awfully strong. 
Feel that ! ” He held out a skinny arm, crooked 
and stiffened. “ Ain’t that some muscle ? ” 

Billy felt the muscle and manfully suppressed 
a grin. It was a fine muscle, he agreed. As if 
a fellow could disappoint such a friendly little 
chap as this ! Billy’s lonely heart warmed to the 
“ Kid,” and his tongue was loosened. He asked 
questions by the yard, and Jack delightedly an- 
swered them all. To hear Jack, one would have 
thought that scouting comprised all of joy that 
earth could offer a boy. So absorbed were the 
two in their talk that they paid little attention 
to the others until an acorn rattled on the brim 
of Jack’s hat. Then he looked up with a shout. 

" It’s Will — my brother — over there with Sid- 
ney Hart,” he explained to Billy. Then he called 
across to his brother, “ What is it, Will ? What 
you want ? ” 

“ You. Come on over here.” 

“ I can’t, Will — I’m under orders,” Jack called 
back, and settled down again beside Billy. 

“ You ought to make him come, Will,” Sidney 
Hart was saying. “ Your father expects you to 
look out for him. If he was my brother, you 


A COUNTRY HIKE 61 

bet I wouldn't let him sit there all this time with 
that tough — anybody can see he’s a regular 
tough. The Tigers are bad enough, but that 
chap ” 

Wilson, scowling, looked across at the two 
figures under the big chestnut tree. “ Scout Mas- 
ter ordered him, as he says,” he answered. 
“ Maybe the fellow isn’t as tough as he looks. 
The Master’s pretty careful, you know.” 

“ Don’t know any such thing,” grumbled Sid- 
ney. “ I don’t believe in mixing things up. A 
troop ought to be made up of boys like those a 
fellow’s used to, not like ours — two patrols of 
the right sort and that one of South-Enders.” 
The South End was the tenement section of the 
city. 

“ I agree with you there, Sid,” Wilson replied. 

“ I’ve half a mind to drop out of the troop, 
anyhow,” Sidney grumbled on. “ I don’t find so 
much fun in it.” 

“ Oh, no, Sid,” Wilson protested quickly, 
“ don’t drop out. I must stay in on the Kid’s 

account, but without you Don’t think of it, 

Sid! There will be fun when we go into camp 
after school closes and have the meets and the 
tournament and all.” 

“ Well — I’ll think it over,” was all Sidney 
would concede, and Wilson knew it was wisest 
not to urge him ; but he was anxious about his 
friend. Their friendship was not as close and 
warm as it had been in the old days. He felt 
that Sidney was not the same — that he was drift- 
ing away from him. 


62 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

A bugle call sounded clear and musical and 
the Scouts gathered nearer the fire. 

“ Hope there’s plenty of grub — I’m hungry 
enough to eat nails,” cried Wilson as he and 
Sidney obeyed the summons. 

“ Carter’s cook to-day — he knows how to make 
prime coffee,” Sidney returned. “ That tough 
sticks to Jack like a brother,” he added, “ and 
Jack acts as if he found him vastly entertaining. 
Look at ’em now, down there together beside 
Marshall.” 

“Jack would find a lobster entertaining,” re- 
torted Wilson, as he flung himself down on the 
grass and beckoned imperatively to Jack. 

The boy sprang up and ran over to him, but 
when Wilson would have pulled him down be- 
side him, Jack slipped lightly away. 

“ I can’t — truly, I can’t, Will. I’m sorry. 
You know I always like best of all to be with you 
— and Sid,” he added with a courteous after- 
thought. “ But Billy is the Scout Master’s guest 
to-day, and he asked me to be as nice to him as 
I could, so I must stay with him till we’re through 
dinner. Then maybe I can come back to you.” 
Catching his brother’s hand, he gave it a quick 
squeeze and ran off. 

“ What can you do with a kid like that ? ” Wil- 
son said, wholly unconscious of the love and 
pride in his eyes. “ Anyhow, Sid, Jack won’t 
be any the worse for hanging round with that 
fellow. You can’t smirch a chap like the Kid — 
you know that.” 

“ Yes,” Sidney admitted, “ I know that.” 


A COUNTRY HIKE 


63 


Each boy had brought ample provision for 
himself, and the Scout Master had brought coffee 
and bacon for the whole troop. The coffee was 
served in the cups that all the boys carried, and 
the bacon, cut in thin slices, was broiled on the 
ends of long pointed sticks. There were no 
plates, and nobody wanted one. But how hun- 
gry everybody was and how good everything 
tasted! Even the Tigers, however — and Billy — 
were satisfied at last, and then followed an hour 
of talk — sometimes merry, sometimes grave — for 
the Master had ways of his own for directing 
it to the end he had in mind. 

Then came the tree lesson. Billy Burns, silent 
and watchful, learned that day how much there 
was that he did not know about trees that he 
had seen times without number; but it was safe 
to say that he would not pass them so heedlessly 
by henceforth. Albert Barnes, patrol leader of 
the Panthers, won the prize with his list of 
thirty-seven varieties of trees that he had seen 
that day. The Master scanned his list with care 
and questioned him closely, but he answered all 
questions so readily that the prize — a knot of 
green ribbon — was voted to him, and he tied 
it in his buttonhole with a gaily superior 
air. 

There followed an archery contest. Only two 
bows had been brought, and these belonged to 
Sidney Hart and Wilson Harding. A rude target 
was outlined with chalk on a big oak tree, and 
the boys were divided — those who had practised 
archery on one side; those who had never used 


64 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

bow and arrows (toys, of course, not considered) 
on the other. Of the practised archers there 
were but six. All the other boys were quite un- 
skilled. The latter had their turn first. One 
after another drew the bow and sent an arrow, 
some hitting the tree and some flying past it. 
Only five fell within the chalk lines, and of these 
but one came near the center. It was Albert 
Barnes again who stood first, his arrow falling 
within the inner circle. As he stepped back, the 
Scout Master beckoned to Billy Burns, who, his 
hands in his pockets, had watched the flying 
shafts with the keenest interest. 

“ Would you like to try ? ” the Master in- 
quired, and, with a quick nod, Billy seized the 
bow and picked up an arrow. 

“ Have you ever used a bow, Billy ? ” the Mas- 
ter asked, and Billy answered with a shake of 
his head. He fingered the string for a moment, 
then fitted the arrow to it, and sent it flying 
straight into the bull's-eye. There was a quick 
shout of applause, led by Jack Harding, but Al- 
bert Barnes did not join in it. He scowled at 
Billy, and said to the boy next him, in a low 
tone, “ Needn’t tell me he never used a bow 
before — I know better.” 

Billy, whose ears were quick as a hare’s, 
caught the low-spoken words. 

“ Yer lie ! ” he flung back instantly, his fists 
doubled ready to strike. 

The Master, speaking to some one else, had 
not heard the interchange; but Jack Harding’s 
eager voice cut across the dangerous moment. 


A COUNTRY HIKE 65 

“ It was a splendid shot, Billy. Sid Hart couldn’t 
beat that.” 

The black fury died swiftly out of Billy’s eyes, 
and he turned away from Barnes without an- 
other word. 

Now the six archers were to try for first place. 
Instead of the chalk target, an acorn was sus- 
pended by a string from the branch of a tree — 
not an easy mark for an arrow. One after an- 
other the six archers drew the bow; but the 
acorn swung untouched until Sidney, the last of 
the six, let fly an arrow which carried off acorn 
and string. This time the applause was quick 
and hearty; and then the boys crowded around 
Sidney and Wilson, examining the bows and ar- 
rows, and asking countless questions about meth- 
ods and practice. 

“ The highest honour goes to you, Sidney — 
and well won,” the Master said, handing him a 
knot of blue ribbon. Then he turned to Barnes. 

“ And to you, second honour,” he held a 
red ribbon in his hand and glanced across as he 
spoke, to Billy, who was standing a little apart 
from the others, “ because you made the best 
shot of any of the troop except Sidney; but 
Burns did better than you and, if you agree, I’ll 
divide the honours — and the ribbon — between 
you. Shall I?” 

“ As you please — I don’t care,” returned 
Barnes, his manner so careless that it was barely 
civil. The Master cut the ribbon, handed him 
half, and gave the other half to Billy. Barnes 
stuffed his into his pocket — and on the home- 


66 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

ward march flicked it disdainfully into the road. 
But Billy’s eyes brightened strangely as he took 
his ribbon, and a genuine boyish smile softened 
his mouth. As the boy, fumbling with clumsy 
fingers, tried to draw the ribbon through his but- 
tonhole, Jack snatched it out of his hands. 
“ Here, let me fix it for you,” he said, and lean- 
ing closer, whispered, “ Fm awful glad you got 
it, Billy.” 

Billy’s face was a study. He was not blind to 
the unfriendly feeling towards him — a feeling 
plainly manifested by others besides Barnes, and, 
according to his “ code,” he must not show before 
them the pride he really felt; so he assumed an 
air of careless indifference which was belied by 
the spot of colour burning in his cheeks — colour 
rivalling that of the ribbon. Though Billy had 
never really discovered the fact himself, deep 
down in him somewhere was a passionate love of 
colour, and this was the first beautiful bit of 
colour that had ever been his very own in the 
fourteen years of his hard life. And as if the 
ribbon itself were not enough, the Kid had fas- 
tened it on and said he was “ awful glad ” he had 
won it. No knight of the garter ever wore his 
jewelled decoration more proudly than Billy wore 
that ribbon; but nobody guessed that — not even 
the Scout Master or Jack. 

The Scout Master looked at his watch and 
announced that it was time to start homewards. 
“ Gather up all belongings — be sure nothing is 
left behind,” he said. “We start in five min- 
utes.” 


A COUNTRY HIKE 


67 

The return march was made in good time, and, 
having escorted Mr. Marshall to his own door, 
the boys were ready to separate, but the Master 
detained them a moment. 

“ Bear in mind the lecture next Saturday,” he 
said. “ It’s on ‘ First aid to the injured,’ and 
you can’t be too well posted in that line. I shall 
hope to see every boy in my troop there. And 
in the evening, the campfire here in my 
rooms will be the last indoor campfire of the 
season. We want to talk over the plans for 
our month of real scouting and camp life in 
August.” 

This announcement was greeted with a cheer, 
after which each patrol saluted the Scout Master, 
and then the boys melted away in different direc- 
tions. Billy had lingered to see the last of Jack. 
As he, too, turned to leave, the Scout Master laid 
a hand on his shoulder. 

“Billy,” he said, “it has just occurred to me 
that I’ve kept you too late for your papers. You 
couldn’t sell many now, could you ? ” 

“ Guess not, but I ain’t mindin’,” returned 
Billy. 

“ I am, though. Come in with me. I think 
you and I will have supper together to-night, 
and if you are half as hungry as I am ” 

Billy grinned and followed. The Master sent 
him upstairs while he himself stopped to ask his 
landlady to send up a bountiful supper tray for 
two. And when it appeared Billy was quite ready 
to do his share towards emptying it. 

The meal over, the Master inquired, “ How 


68 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

much do you make selling papers, Billy — how 
much a day ? ” 

“ Sometimes thirty cents— sometimes not so 
much.” 

“ And how much blacking boots ? ” 

“ Mebbe fifty cents, mebbe nothin’. Wet days 
nobody stops fer a shine.” 

“ So the most you ever make is eighty cents a 
day?” 

Billy nodded. “ Only have the time after 
school an’ Sat’days,” he explained. 

It was not easy for the Scout Master to say 
what he had to say next. 

“ Billy, I’ve got to speak just this once about 
what happened at the school.” 

Instantly a black shadow fell over the boy’s 
face, blotting out the little glow of happiness that 
the day had brought into it. Again it was the 
face of the homeless vagrant of the streets, sul- 
len, suspicious, defiant. His eyes no longer met 
the Master’s frankly, but shifted furtively, and 
he slipped to the edge of his chair as if about 
to dart out of the room. 

The Master went on, his voice very kind and 
gentle, “ You know that I paid for all the books 
and things that had been — lost ? ” 

Billy nodded silently, his eyes on the floor. 

“ It wasn’t enough for me to pay for them. 
I mean you would not have been allowed to go 
back if that had been all. I had to make a 
promise for you, Billy, before the supervisor and 
school board would let you go back. I prom- 
ised that you would pay that money back 


A COUNTRY HIKE 69 

to me. Don’t you see that that was the fair 
thing?” 

“ I — dunno.” Billy’s voice seemed to come 
from the shoes on which his eyes were now 
fastened. 

The Master went on, “ You see, it was this 
way. You did wrong and you have to pay for 
it. My paying that money didn’t pay for the 
wrong you did — it only paid for the books and 
other things that were taken. If you had been 
sent to the reform school and had spent a year 
there, then you would have paid in that way for 
the wrong you did.” 

“ That wouldn’t a-paid fer the things I 
cribbed, though,” flashed Billy, with unexpected 
insight. 

“ No, they would never have been paid for 
then. But you see, don’t you, that you have 
something yet to pay ? ” 

Billy considered that for a little before he ad- 
mitted reluctantly, “ Mebbe so.” Then he added 
anxiously, “ How much is it ? ” 

“ Five dollars.” 

“ The Gee ! ” amended Billy hastily. The 

corners of his mouth drooped, and he added with 
sullen gloom, “ How’m I goin’ to save up all 
that?” 

“ There’s no hurry about it, you know, Billy. 
If it isn’t paid up in a year it will be all right, 
if only you are doing your best to pay it. And 
I think before long I can find some work for 
you that will bring in more money than you are 
earning now. Tve been thinking about that, too.” 


70 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Billy was silent. The Master changed the sub- 
ject. 

“ What do you think of the Scouts, Billy ? ” 
he asked. 

“ Don’t like ’em — ’cept the Kid. He’s all 
right.” 

The Master looked both surprised and disap- 
pointed. “ Why didn’t you like the scouting?” 

“ They’re no good — them chaps. De gang’s 
better — ter me.” 

“ Oh, it’s the boys you don’t like. But 
wouldn’t you like the scouting if you liked the 
boys? Wouldn’t you like living in a tent down 
by the water, where you could swim and fish and 
paddle in a canoe, and learn to read woods’ signs 
and play Indian games ? ” 

Billy awoke to sudden interest. 

“ Scalpin’ an’ burnin’ an’ shootin’ folks,” he 
demanded breathlessly, “ like I seen in the movin’ 
pictures? ” 

“ Not real scalping and killing, of course, but 
real Indian life, all the same — finding your way 
through the woods and tracking others, and 
making fires to cook the fish you’ve caught — 
wouldn’t you like all that, Billy ? ” 

Billy thought he might. 

“ Well, then, suppose you come here next Sat- 
urday. We’ll have supper together same as we 
have to-night — that’s only fair, since it would 
take your working time — and then you’ll hear all 
about our camping plans. I’d like to take you 
along for a week or two, for I’m sure you’d like 
the outdoor life. And — could you go with me 


A COUNTRY HIKE 


71 


Saturday morning to the big meeting? The Red 
Cross Society is to give a talk to all the Scouts 
in the city, and show them exactly how to give 
first aid to the injured — that is, teach them how 
to stop bleeding, to bind up a broken limb, to 
recover a person who has been nearly drowned, 
and things like that. You would learn how to 
do these things the right way, and perhaps, 
knowing how, you might sometime have a chance 
to save a lif e.^ 

“ I seen a feller drownded last summer,” Billy 
remarked. 

“ And if you had known just how to go to 
work, perhaps you might have saved his life.” 

“ Nop — ’cause he’d been drownded a week,” 
retorted Billy with a sly twinkle in his eye — the 
very first sign he had given of a sense of humour. 
“ I’d like to hear that talk, though,” he added. 

“ Very well, then, be here Saturday at ten 
o’clock — sharp.” 

“ I’ll be here.” Billy rose and turned to go. 

“ Did you tell Barney that I want to see him? ” 
the Master asked. 

Billy said he did. 

“ He didn’t come.” 

“ I know. Guess he didn’t want ter.” 

“ Well, tell him again, will you, Billy? ” 

“ Sure,” and with that Billy sidled out. From 
the foot of the stairs a brief “ ’Night ” floated 
back to the ears of the Scout Master, who smiled 
at the belated politeness. 


VI 


A CRISIS FOR SIDNEY HART 

A FEW evenings later another boy came up 
the Master’s stairs, but it was not Barney 
■ Doyle. It was Wilson Harding, and the 
Master read trouble in his eyes. Wilson had 
dropped in for a little talk several times before. 
Many of Alan Marshall’s boys found that room 
an attractive place and their teacher a sympa- 
thetic and helpful confidant. He waited now for 
Wilson to say why he had come, and some chance 
reference to Sidney Hart opened the way. 

“ I’m awfully worried over Sid, Mr. Marshall,” 
Wilson admitted. 

“ Tell me whatever you are free to tell, Wil- 
son. He isn’t planning to go away again, is 
he?” 

“ No, he’ll never do that while his mother 
lives; but — well, I’ve got to tell somebody. It’s 
this : Sid is going with a wild lot — fellows older 
than he is, most of them, and with money to 
burn. They go off nights on ‘ joy rides,’ don’t 
you know — way out of town? — and stop for 
supper and then play cards, and — Mr. Marshall, 
you know it’s bad for Sid to go with a crowd 
like that.” 

“Of course it is. Doesn’t his father know?” 
72 


A CRISIS FOR SIDNEY HART 73 

" I don’t believe he does. Sid goes up to his 
room and his people think he’s gone to bed, but 
he slips out again — and he has ways of getting 
in at all hours.” 

The Master’s face was grave and troubled. 
“ His father ought to know,” he said. 

“ If he did he might stop it — perhaps, for a 
while — but it seems to me the only way to do 
anything for Sid — any real good — is to get him 
interested in something that will give him a lot to 
do — and what that will be I don’t know. I 
thought maybe — I hoped you could think of 
something.” 

“ I wish I could. It’s easier far to get a hold 
on a boy like Billy Burns than one like Sidney. 
It’s a pity he doesn’t have to work for his pocket 
money.” 

“ He has too much money — that’s one 
trouble,” Wilson admitted. 

“ And there is nothing — no line of study 
or research or work that he really cares 
about?” 

Wilson shook his head. “ I don’t know of any 
— except ranching — he still hankers after that 
kind of life.” 

“ He isn’t interested in the scouting? There 
is much out-of-doors' life in that.” 

“ No. He says he is going to give that up — 
quit the patrol. You see, Mr. Marshall, he 
doesn’t like mixing in with fellows like the Tigers 
and that Burns. He thinks they ought to be in 
a troop by themselves — not in with us.” 

“ What do you think about that, Wilson ? ” 


74 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Well — honest, Mr. Marshall, I agree with 
him there.” 

“ And the others in your patrol, and the Pan- 
thers ? ” 

“ Oh, A1 Barnes — he’s been down on the Ti- 
gers from the beginning, and Ben Martin has, 
too — Ben generally thinks as A1 does — and they 
carry the rest of the patrol, you see.” 

The Scout Master was studying the face of 
the boy. Something in the quiet, searching 
glance — or in the silence — made Harding 
vaguely uncomfortable. When Alan Marshall 
broke the silence it was to ask very quietly : 

“ And your brother Jack — does he feel as you 
and these others do about the Tigers — and 
Burns? ” 

“Oh, Jack! Of course he doesn’t. But you 
know Jack isn’t like other boys in lots of ways. 
He’s — well, you see, Jack always thinks every 
fellow he meets is just as fine and straight as he 
is himself.” 

“ Wilson, do you think there is the slight- 
est danger — to Jack — in associating with the 
Tigers on our scouting trips?” the Master 
asked. 

“To Jack? No, indeed! Pitch wouldn’t 
blacken the Kid. Nothing smutty ever sticks to 
him” 

The Master smiled — the rare smile that was 
perhaps the sweeter because so rare. He spoke 
again, yet more gently. 

“ Wilson, have you noticed how the Tigers 
treat Jack? ” 


A CRISIS FOR SIDNEY HART 75 

Wilson nodded. “ As if he was a little bit of 
all right. But all the fellows treat the Kid that 
way.” 

“ Why — do you suppose ? ” 

“ Oh — because he's white all the way through 
and they feel it.” 

“ Yes, that’s it. So there’s no danger of the 
Tigers contaminating Jack” 

Wilson flushed. “It isn’t that!” he flung out 
scornfully. “ We — the rest of us — aren’t afraid 
of being contaminated by those chaps: It’s that 
we don’t like to have them in our crowd. They 
aren’t our sort. Don’t you understand, Mr. Mar- 
shall?” 

“ Oh, I understand your point of view per- 
fectly. But suppose now I should add to my 
troop another patrol of boys from families richer 
and higher in the social scale than yours — what 
then? Would you think that that was all 
right?” 

“ Why, of course. That would be a different 
thing entirely.” Wilson looked puzzled. 

“Would it? I don’t think the Tigers would 
understand why. Wilson, you are a fine fellow, 
but you need to learn some things that scouting, 
I hope, will teach you. You took the Scout’s oath 
— to do at least one kindness every day. Was 
that kindness to be limited to the boys in your 
own ‘ crowd ’ ? Haven’t you been forgetting an- 
other article in the creed — that all Scouts are 
brothers? Just think it over, and see if you don’t 
find that you owe some kindnesses to those 
brothers of yours in the Tiger Patrol who haven’t 


76 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

had half your chances. Try to put yourself in 
their places and see what then it would mean to 
you to be in a troop with boys like — Jack, we’ll 
say.” 

“ There aren’t any others like the Kid,” mur- 
mured the Kid’s brother loyally. 

“ Not many, more’s the pity — they are far too 
rare,” the Scout Master agreed. Then quickly 
he changed the subject. “ As to Sidney — I will 
see if there is anything I can do. I’m sure that 
he is all right at bottom if only he can be kept 
from disaster for a year or two to come.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Marshall. Anyhow, I feel 
better for telling you,” Wilson answered, rising. 
But as he went home, it was not of his friend 
he was thinking so much as of his “ brothers ” in 
the Tiger Patrol. He didn’t at all want to feel 
that he owed them any kindnesses, but the Scout 
Master had a way of making a fellow feel mighty 
uncomfortable about things like that. Wilson 
was half inclined to vow that he would keep 
away from the Master henceforth. It was such 
a bother to be compelled to haul out your faults 
and failings after you had packed them nicely 
away in some out-of-the-way corner of your 
mind. 

Yet before nine o’clock the next morning he 
was again knocking at the Master’s door; and 
at sight of the boy’s white face and miserable 
eyes the Master drew him quickly into the room 
and demanded, “ What is it, Wilson? ” 

“ It’s Sid ! Oh, Mr. Marshall, haven’t you 
seen the morning paper ? ” 


A CRISIS FOR SIDNEY HART 77 

“ No, mine didn’t come this morning. Tell 
me — what about Sidney?” 

The boy’s voice was shaken with deep feeling 
as he told his story. “ He was off last night 
with Tom Nichols and Jo Tracy and David 
Steere on one of those rides I was telling you 
about. On the way home at midnight they ran 
into a carriage and smashed that up and the car, 
too, and Nichols was killed and all of them hurt 
so they were taken to the Emergency Hos- 
pital.” 

The Master’s face expressed the gravest con- 
cern. 

“ Was Sidney dangerously hurt ? ” he asked. 

“ I don’t know. I wanted to go to his house 
to ask, but — I couldn’t.” Suddenly the boy put 
his head down on the table, hiding his face. 

“ I will go at once and inquire,” the Master 
said. “ Will you wait here? ” 

Wilson nodded without looking up. “ Be back 
as soon as you can,” he begged in a low tone. 

As the Master waited in the beautiful home 
on the avenue, he recalled that other time when 
he had come there on a similar errand. Mr. 
Hart evidently remembered it, too, when he en- 
tered the room. 

“ It was kind of you to come — again,” he said. 
“ I’ve just returned from the hospital.” 

“ And Sidney?” 

“ He is not seriously injured — one arm broken. 
The shock was the worst.” Mr. Hart’s face 
looked haggard and miserable. He went on, 
“ Marshall, I’ve been asking myself if it is my 


78 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

fault that my boy seems bent on wrecking his 
life before he really begins to live.” 

“ Perhaps this will be the lesson he needed,” 
the Master ventured. “ I have always had faith 
in Sidney, Mr. Hart. He is not a bad boy, I am 
sure. What he needs is some real in- 
terest — something which he can do, and see 
results.” 

“ I don’t know — I don’t know what he needs — 
or wants,” the father said sadly. “ I’ve done my 
best for him — at least, the best I knew. Nothing 
he wanted has been denied him, but nothing 
seems to content him.” 

“ One boy, I understand, was killed. Were 
any of the others seriously injured? ” Alan Mar- 
shall inquired. 

“ Yes, the other two boys, Tracy and Steere, 
are both badly hurt, and one of the men in the 
carriage they ran into has a broken leg. Oh, 
it’s a wretched business — wretched ! ” Mr. Hart 
answered. “ It will all be aired in the papers, 
and the boys represented as young ruffians of 
the blackest dye, and there’ll be a suit for dam- 
ages — there’s no end to the miserable complica- 
tions ! ” The grey-haired man fairly groaned in 
his misery. 

“ Your boy was spared to you, Mr. Hart,” the 
Master gently reminded him. 

“ Yes, and I suppose I ought to be thankful 
for that. What am I saying? I am thankful, 
of course. If only — if only — this will bring him 
to his senses and make him behave himself 
henceforth. But I don’t know — I don’t know.” 


A CRISIS FOR SIDNEY HART 79 

“ How long will Sidney remain at the hos- 
pital ? ” 

“ Only a day or two. He didn't want to face 
his mother yet, and no wonder ! ” 

Mr. Marshall rose. “ Sidney must have had a 
fearful shock in the death of his friend under 
such circumstances, and so dreadfully sudden. 
A boy cannot go through such an experience as 
that without some lasting results. Let him feel 
that you still have faith in him, Mr. Hart." 

The father shook his head, and the Master 
went away with his heart full of sympathy for 
both father and son. 

He found Wilson walking the floor in uncon- 
trollable impatience and anxiety, and the account 
he could give the boy was not very comforting. 
But Wilson, at least, could rejoice that his 
friend’s injuries were less serious than he had 
feared, and he had more faith than had Sidney’s 
father in the lasting effects of the experience 
through which the boy had passed. 

“ Shouldn’t think he’d ever want to see a card 
or a bottle — or an auto again,’’ he said to himself 
as he went home. 


VII 


AROUND THE FIRE 


HE next evening the Scout Master, busy 



over school papers, heard heavy foot- 


steps on his stairs, and opened the door 
to Barney Doyle. The big fellow paused on the 
threshold as if more than half minded to back 
out, but the Scout Master held his hand in a 
firm grasp and was giving him a cordial welcome, 
so Barney marched in and seated himself, as 
Billy had done, on the edge of a chair, as if ready 
at a moment’s notice to spring up and dart out. 

“ Billy said ye wanted ter see me,” he began. 

“ But you didn’t want to see me, Barney ? ” 
the Master returned with a smile. 

To that Barney made no response. He sat 
stolid and silent, only his eyes keenly alert. 

The Master went on, “ Yes, I wanted to see 
you — about Billy, for one thing.” 

“ Billy’s all right, ain’t he ? ” Barney demanded 
with a mingling of defiance and uneasiness in 
his manner. 

“ Quite all right. I have great hopes for 
Billy.” 

Barney looked a question, but he did not 
ask it. 

“ Did he tell you that he has to pay back to me 


80 


AROUND THE FIRE 81 

the money I paid for the things he had taken 
in the school ? ” 

“ He told me,” Barney admitted briefly. 

“ And what did you think about it ? Did you 
understand that I was obliged to promise that 
Billy should repay me? I wanted you to under- 
stand it, Barney.” 

Barney nodded, scowling. “ How’s he goin’ 
to, an’ he not makin’ fifty cents some days, an’ 
all his eatin’s to come out of that? ” he demanded 
in his gruffest tone. 

“ Of course he can’t pay it out of such earn- 
ings, but I am going to help him to earn more.” 

At that Barney’s scowl softened a little. The 
Master went on, “ And if he earns more, don’t 
you see that it is right for him to repay me — 
that he must do something himself to pay for 
what he did? That is what I want you to un- 
derstand, Barney.” 

“ Mebbe so,” was all the boy would admit, and 
he qualified that by muttering, “ He didn’t crib 
’em fer himself nohow.” 

“ But a broken law must be paid for, just as 
a broken arm must be paid for in suffering. No 
amount of money can prevent that, you know.” 

Barney nodded thoughtfully. 

“ Barney, how old are you ? ” 

“ ’Bout seventeen.” 

“ And how many are there in the gang of 
which you are the leader ? ” 

“ Fourteen — now.” 

“ There were more ? ” 

“ Uh-huh. One got nabbed last week. He’s 


82 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

in the r’form school, but they won’t keep him 
there long — he’ll find a way to git out,” Barney 
declared with evident satisfaction. 

“ What was he sent there for ? ” 

“ Oh — I dunno.” Barney shut up like a 
clam. 

The Master went on, “ How long have you 
been the gang leader ? ” 

“ ’Bout t’ree years.” 

“ And how many of your gang have been sent 
to the reform school in that time? ” 

Barney considered; then answered with re- 
luctance, “ Six, I guess. That’s all I ’member. 
Why?” 

“ Six,” repeated the Master gravely. “ Bar- 
ney, you might be in better business than train- 
ing boys for the reform school and penitentiary. 
Don’t you think so? ” 

Barney stared, open-mouthed. Finally his face 
slowly flushed an angry red as he stammered, 
“ I— I— I ain’t doin’ that ! ” 

“ Six ! ” Alan Marshall repeated, “ and Billy 
would have made seven. That’s a pretty bad 
record, Barney. Why don’t you, instead, try to 
keep them out of prison — make men of them 
instead of convicts ? ” 

Again Barney stared, bewildered and sus- 
picious, but he said nothing. 

The Master went on, “ You are a leader. You 
ean make other boys do as you say. Don’t you 
think it would be a fine thing if you should use 
your influence to make those boys give up their 
evil habits — their swearing and fighting and 


AROUND THE FIRE 83 

gambling and all the rest of it — and make a fresh 
start, as Billy is doing?” 

“ Aw, that’s all talk. Nobody couldn’t make 
’em do that.” 

“How about Billy?” 

“ But you’re backin’ Billy — an’, anyhow, 
mebbe he won’t hold out long. I ain’t sure.” 

“ I think he will. And I’ll back you and any 
of your gang just as I’m backing Billy — if you’ll 
do all you can to help me. Won’t you give it 
a try?” 

Barney shrugged his shoulders. “ Nothin’ 
doin’,” he muttered. 

“Why, Barney?” 

“ ’Cause ’twouldn’t work. De gang — they’ve 
got ter have somethin’ lively. Preachin’ an’ 
meetin’s an’ clubs — they don’t care a — they don’t 
care fer them things — they’re too slow.” 

“ How about camping out in the woods this 
summer — living in tents, cooking their own 
meals, fishing, canoeing, playing Indian games — 
would all that be ‘ slow,’ do you think ? ” 

Barney’s face showed growing interest min- 
gled with doubt. “ Who’d do all that fer ’em ? ” 
he demanded. “ Would youse? ” 

“ Yes. I’m going to take my Scouts — or some 
of them — into camp in August. If you can per- 
suade some of your gang to go along, I believe 
they would have the time of their lives. I want 
Billy to go, anyhow. You won’t try to prevent 
him, Barney?” 

“ Naw — not ’f he wants ter go,” Barney 
agreed. 


84 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Well, you don’t have to decide now about 
the others. You can think it all over and come 
and talk with me some other evening if you 
care to. Of course, if any of the boys go along, 
they must join the Scouts, and take the scout 
oath and keep it. I’ll give you a book that tells 
all about the Scouts. You can look it over, and 
if there is anything you don’t understand, I’ll 
explain it to you next time you come. Will you 
come again, Barney ? ” 

“ Mebbe. I dunno.” Barney slipped the little 
book into his pocket and himself off the edge of 
the chair and rose to his lanky height. 

“ You’re almost as tall as I am — almost a man 
grown. Barney — be a man,” the Master said ear- 
nestly, as he held out his hand. 

Barney took the hand doubtfully, but he made 
no reply, and went away in silence. 

Saturday night brought a driving storm with 
a chilly wind that whistled at doors and windows 
— an old-fashioned “ May storm.” The Scout 
Master was glad of it, for boys would not be 
kept away by any weather and it would make 
the roaring wood fire a delight to feel as well as 
to see. Would Billy walk the long mile and a 
half *on such a night, the Master wondered. 
Billy did. He appeared soon after seven, water 
dripping from every fold of his garments. 

“ Mebbe I’m too wet ? ” he suggested, stopping 
on the threshold and looking down at the puddles. 

“ Never mind the wet — the fire will dry you 
off,” the Master answered, and he drew a chair 
close to the hearth, “ Now, off with your shoes 


AROUND THE FIRE 85 

and stockings, and toast your feet well while I 
get you something dry to put on.” 

Billy obeyed, and sat in blissful comfort with 
the steam rising from his wet garments when 
the Master came from his bedroom adjoining. 
He brought clean socks, slippers, and an old 
coat. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he said when the 
boy had put on the dry things. “ Had any sup- 
per, Billy ? ” The Master always kept supplies 
on hand for half-fed boys, and especially for this 
one who, he knew, had lived on scraps for most 
of his life. 

Billy nodded. 

“ Tell me what you had for supper.” 

“ Bread an’ cheese, an’ ice cream out o’ the 
hokey-pokey wagon. Get it fer two cents,” Billy 
explained. 

“ That wasn’t a very hearty supper, and you 
need something hot after the wetting you’ve 
had.” The Master rang a bell and gave an order 
to the maid who answered it; and in a few 
minutes she brought up a big cup of steaming 
chocolate and an equally generous sandwich. 
Billy sniffed doubtfully at the chocolate — he had 
never tasted any— but after one sip he was quite 
ready to drain the cup. 

“ Now we are comfortable and ready for a 
talk,” the Master said as he removed the empty 
plate and cup. “ How did you like the talk on 
first aid this morning?” 

“You mean the doctor talk?” Billy sat up, 
his eyes shining. 


86 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Yes.” 

“ It was bully ! ” 

“ Let’s see how much you remember of it.” 
The Master asked question after question, and 
the boy answered them without a moment’s hesi- 
tation. 

“ Good ! Now let’s see how much you remem- 
ber of the talk the other man gave.” 

But here Billy failed entirely. The first ad- 
dress had evidently made no impression upon 
him. A light broke on the mind of the Scout 
Master. 

“ Billy,” he said, “ would you like to hear an- 
other talk by that same doctor ? ” 

“ You bet ! When can I ? ” Again the boy’s 
face flashed into quick interest. 

“ Soon. How would you like to learn to do all 
the things he did yesterday — and more ? ” 

Billy’s eager eyes spoke for him. 

“ Well, you can learn them all if you join the 
Scouts. Not all right at first, of course. If 

you’ve read the little book I gave you Have 

you read it ? ” 

Billy nodded doubtfully. “ But I ain’t so 
much on readin’ yet — not big words,” he ad- 
mitted. 

“ Of course not. But you know when you 
join the Scouts, you are first a Tenderfoot; then 
after you’ve learned some more things you can 
be promoted to the Second Class, and, after that, 
to the First. You have to be able to do yourself 
some of the things the doctor showed you before 
you can be a First Class Scout. And later, if 


AROUND THE FIRE 87 

you want to, you can take a special course in 
surgery.” 

“ I’m a-goin’ to join,” Billy’s tone was decided. 

“ I’m glad, Billy. Now, let’s see what you’ve 
got to learn first. Can you repeat the scout 
oath?” 

Billy couldn’t. The Master read it to him 
slowly, and then the scout law, explaining point 
by point. At the end, Billy drew a long, discour- 
aged breath. 

“ ’Tain’t no use. I couldn’t ever learn all them 
t’ings,” he muttered, “ an’ if I did I’d ferget to 
do ’em. Reckon I’ll have ter give it up, after 
all.” 

“ Indeed, no,” said the Master quickly. “ I’ll 
help you learn them. It will be hard at first for 
you to remember and keep the law; but after 
a while it will be easier. And think, Billy — 
there isn’t a thing in this law that you wouldn’t 
have to do, even if you were not a Scout, if you 
are going to grow into the man I think you are 
going to be — the William Burns I see in the 
future — the Doctor Burns, maybe ! ” 

Again the boy drew a long breath, but now 
there was a different expression in his face — a 
dawning hope. 

The Master went on, “ Now let’s see how much 
you know about the flag. Can you tell how 
many stars and stripes it has, and just how they 
are placed? ” 

No, Billy couldn’t. But after a few minutes 
careful study of a flag Alan Marshall brought 
out — he could. 


88 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


“ Now, the knots.” The Master glanced at 
the clock as he took some cord from a drawer. 
He showed the boy how to tie three of the knots. 
“ That’s all we’ll have time for to-night, for 
I hear some of the boys coming.” 

He put Billy’s shoes and stockings — now nearly 
dry — out of sight, and opened the door as he 
heard the sound of noisy feet on the stairs and 
the clamour of seven voices all talking at once. 

It was the Tigers, almost as wet as Billy had 
been, but not quite. However, they were used to 
all weathers and did not mind the wet; and as 
Mr. Marshall could not well furnish dry socks 
and slippers to all seven, he laid a thick rug 
before the fire and made the boys sit on it, their 
wet feet outstretched to the comfortable heat. 

By the time they were well settled, the Owls 
and the Panthers began to appear in couples and 
groups. But these boys, with overshoes or thick 
boots, storm-coats and umbrellas, needed no dry- 
ing off. 

Jack Harding darted over to Billy to give 
him what he called a “ regular scout grip,” and 
he gave the same greeting to the seven Tigers 
on the rug. But the Master noticed that most 
of the other boys ignored the Tigers and Billy; 
and Albert Barnes made a wry face and sniffed 
disdainfully as the fire made the wet shoes and 
trousers of the Tigers send forth a steam that 
was, perhaps, not exactly agreeable to fastidious 
nostrils. 

“ Say, it’s — well, pretty close in here. Couldn’t 
we have a window open somewhere ? ” It was 


AROUND THE FIRE 


89 

Barnes who asked the question, his glance at the 
smoking seven on the rug giving it unmistakable 
emphasis. 

With a look in his eyes that made some of 
the boys uncomfortable, the Master crossed the 
room and opened a window at the top. Then he 
said gravely, “ The Tigers here, not being pro- 
tected from the rain as you were, got rather too 
wet for safety, so I put them down there close 
to the fire.” Then looking down at the Tigers, 
he added, “ You’ll soon be dry,” and now his 
grave face softened into a smile, and every one 
of the seven on the rug gave him an answering 
smile, good to see on their hard young faces. 

When the matter of the summer camp at 
Eagle Lake was taken up, every boy in the room 
was interested and the Master was pelted with 
eager questions. 

“ We shall live in tents,” he told them, “ a 
large one for eating and living in in wet weather, 
and a small one for each patrol. Each boy is 
to carry bedding and towels, with such changes 
of clothing as he chooses, but the baggage must 
be light. Each boy is to make his own bed and 
keep his belongings in order, and the cooking 
will be done by each patrol in turn, the boys de- 
ciding between themselves which of them shall 
be cook or dishwasher — and of course there must 
be no shirking.” 

As to the expense — the cost to each boy would 
be seven dollars a week. Boys who could not 
pay that would be allowed to go for five a week. 

The faces of the seven boys on the rug and 


90 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

of the one who sat apart silent and attentive had 
grown very sober while this matter of expenses 
was discussed. No chance for them. Not one of 
them could pay five dollars a week, to say nothing 
of seven. Barnes and some of the others grew 
jubilant at sight of these disappointed faces. It 
would work out all right, they thought. The 
Tigers could not pay, therefore the camp would 
be free of them, and so much the better. The 
Master did not need to be told what these were 
thinking. He glanced at the Owls. Jack was 
smiling at Billy — never suspecting the gloom in 
Billy’s heart. The faces of the other Owls were 
less easy to read, but none of them showed any 
sympathy for the Tigers. There was disappoint- 
ment of another sort in the kindly eyes of the 
Scout Master. How was he to awaken the spirit 
of brotherly consideration and kindness in the 
hearts of these boys? He must find the way. 

The clock struck the half-hour after nine and 
in a moment the room was in a turmoil of boys 
asking questions, getting into storm-coats, and 
picking out their umbrellas. Billy had hastily 
discarded his borrowed coat and slippers, and 
was tugging on his shoes, stiff and heavy after 
their soaking, when Jack Harding, leaning over 
him, whispered in his ear, with a happy little 
laugh, “ We’ll have jolly good times at the camp, 
Billy, won’t we ? ” 

Billy lifted gloomy eyes and said, “ Me — I 
ain’t in it. D’ye take me f er a Rockyfeller ? ” 

Jack looked disappointed and bewildered. He 
had never had to think about money for neces- 


AROUND THE FIRE 


91 

sary things — like board — and he had taken it for 
granted that Billy had a father or somebody to 
pay for him. 

“ Oh, but ” he began. Will interrupted. 

“ Come on, Kid,” he called, “ we’re going,” 
and with a hasty good-bye to Billy, Jack whirled 
about, straightening himself in soldierly fashion 
to salute the Scout Master, and ran after his 
brother. 

They were all gone, all except Billy and the 
Tigers, who, with one impulse, had lingered be- 
hind in the faint hope that the Scout Master 
might somehow open to them a way into the 
paradise of camp life from which they seemed 
now excluded. Billy having tied his knotted shoe- 
strings, stopped before the Scout Master and, 
clumsily enough, gave the salute as Jack and the 
others had done. 

“ ’Night,” he muttered, and turned to leave, 
but a hand on his shoulder detained him. 

“ One moment, Billy. I’m glad that you all 
stayed behind, for I want to say this, A friend 
of mine — a man who is a good friend to boys — 
has given me some money to pay for any of 
my Scouts who cannot afford to pay for them- 
selves in the camp. So that lets you in — the eight 
of y OU — for Billy is going to take the vacant 
place in your patrol.” 

The change in the eight faces was worth see- 
ing. The boys punched and elbowed each other 
with grins of delight— only Billy stood silent 
and motionless, his mouth half open — but there 
was no mistaking the joy in his eyes. 


VIII 


OFF FOR CAMP 

GUST first was a glorious day, with a 



blue blue sky covered with great billow- 


ing cottony clouds sailing slowly over it. 
It was hot, as an August day has a right to be, 
but a breeze tempered the heat, and the twenty- 
four boys who stood with Alan Marshall on 
the platform never thought of the heat. Every 
member of the troop was there, even Sidney 
Hart — but a sadly changed Sidney. He was 
thin and pale and silent, shrinking a little from 
all the other boys except Wilson and Jack Hard- 
ing. The Panthers had declared they would not 
go with the troop when they found that the ob- 
noxious Tigers were to go along after all ; but 
they had reconsidered and decided finally to go, 
and to-day they were all in great spirits. 

As for the Tigers — they were the happiest and 
proudest boys in the city, for on this day, for the 
first time, they were all in full uniform; and if 
any one had a right to be proud they certainly 
had, for every one of them, except Billy, had 
earned his own uniform; and this meant not a 
little, for boys who had to earn all their own 
clothes by work out of school hours. Those 
splendid new uniforms, therefore, represented 
long and careful saving of pennies — 'pennies that 


92 


93 


OFF FOR CAMP 

before had gone for cigarettes, hokey-pokey ice 
cream, and moving-picture shows — especially the 
picture shows. So the Tigers had good reason 
to be proud and happy every time that they 
looked at the yellow suits and hats, the staves 
and haversacks. And they each wore with spe- 
cial pride, on the left shoulder, a knot of yellow 
ribbon, while Tom Nolan, the patrol leader, with 
his whistle dangling from a cord around his 
neck, was fairly bursting with pride over the new 
banner he carried ; for had not he, besides earn- 
ing his suit, earned also the money to buy the 
black and yellow cloth for the banner? 

Billy’s uniform had been the Scout Master’s 
gift to the boy, and Billy looked down at it al- 
most with awe, for his wildest dreams had never 
included a beautiful new uniform for him. 
Billy did not know it, but the putting on of the 
uniform for the first time that August morning 
had been in the nature of a sacrament to him. 
He said to himself, “ I got to keep the scout law 
now — I got to whether I can or not. I can’t ever 
wear these clothes if I don’t.” 

The train came thundering into the station, 
the passengers staring from the windows at the 
boys in their neat uniform. “ Boy Scouts — 
they’re Boy Scouts ! ” The word passed from 
car to car, and everybody was interested in them. 
They filled a dozen seats and one more in the 
car, and their tongues rattled as fast as the car 
wheels rattled over the rails. 

It was a two-hour ride, and then a tramp of 
a mile and a half to the lake where the tents 


94 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

were to be pitched. The tents and supplies had 
been sent on the day before and were awaiting 
them under the care of the man who had brought 
them. But he was in a hurry to return home, 
and set off as soon as the troop arrived. 

“ Never mind,” said the Scout Master, “ we 
can pitch the tents without his help, I am sure.” 

He set one patrol to work gathering spruce- 
tips for beds, a second collecting dry stuff for 
fuel, the third setting up the tents. All were ready 
to help and eager to get the camp into shape. 

The large tent had a French roof to give more 
head room and coolness. For the frame, two 
uprights, three ridgepoles, and four angle bars 
had been brought. The frame was quickly put 
together and the canvas stretched over it. Then 
a “ fly ” — an extra canvas roof — was drawn over 
as a protection in case of heavy rain. The sides 
of the fly extended half a yard beyond the sides 
of the tent, and were fastened by ropes to stout 
pegs driven into the ground. 

“ This is grand — big enough for a dance ! ” 
Barnes declared, when the canvas was all se- 
cured, “ and it didn’t take us long to put it up, 
either.” 

“ Don’t imagine that your working day is over 
yet,” the Scout Master said. “ That pile of lum- 
ber yonder is for flooring. There must be a floor 
to each tent. Have you taken a manual-training 
course? ” 

“ Not I. I’m no day labourer,” returned 
Barnes lightly. “ Haven’t I done my share, now 
the big tent’s up ? ” 


OFF FOR CAMP 95 

“ Not a bit of it, Barnes. There are six other 
tents to put up, but they are smaller. Which of 
you older boys has had the manual training ?” 

It appeared that none of the older ones had. 

“ That’s a pity. A boy who isn’t handy with 
tools misses a lot of fun — and never will make 
a First Class Scout.” 

“ We’re all taking the manual training,” one 
of the Owls said, indicating three of his com- 
panions. 

“ Me, too, and Jim and Sullivan,” a Tiger 
named Jenkins declared. 

“ Good,” returned the Master. “ All of you 
go over to that pile of lumber — I’ll be there pres- 
ently. Wilson, I’ll leave you in charge of the 
tent-pitching, with Barnes and Martin to help 
you. No, Sidney, you are off duty for the 
present. Stretch out on the grass there and rest 
until dinner time.” 

“ Where shall we pitch the small tents? ” Wil- 
son inquired. 

“ Put three on that side, over there near the 
edge of the woods where they’ll get some shade. 
The others — but you won’t have time for the 
others this morning.” 

As the Master turned away, Wilson caught up 
one of the canvas covers. “ I’ll take this, and 
you and Martin can bring the frame,” he said. 

“ Huh ! ” Barnes growled in Martin’s ear. “ If 
Will Harding thinks he’s going to boss me, just 
let him go ahead and try it. I’ll soon let him 
know he isn’t going to order me around.” 

“ Oh, hush up, Al. Don’t make a fuss,” Mar- 


96 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

tin urged. “ We don’t want to get into a row 
the first thing.” 

“ First or last — I don’t care. I won’t be bossed 
by Will Harding nor anybody else — that’s flat.” 

(Martin hesitated. Then he called to a boy 
standing near to help him carry the frame. 

“ Hurry up with that frame, Martin,” Wilson 
shouted impatiently. 

“ You see? Mind your boss,” Barnes taunted 
in a low tone that brought an angry flush to 
Martin’s cheek. He yanked the frame along 
over the grass, and dumped it at Wilson’s feet. 
Then without a word he walked off and flung 
himself down on the grass beside Barnes. 

“ Say, Martin, aren’t you going to help me ? ” 
Wilson called, looking across at the two. 

“ No. We’re on strike — worked out,” Martin 
called back over his shoulder. 

“ Well ! They’re fine specimens — for Scouts ! ” 
Wilson muttered to himself. The other boy who 
was helping — Charlie Taylor — grinned cheerfully 
as he remarked : 

“ Just wait till the Scout Master gets on to this. 
There’ll be ructions then.” 

“ But we don’t want ‘ ructions,’ ” retorted 
Wilson. “ We’re ‘ on honour ’ as Scouts and 
we’re bound to obey orders. Oh, well ” — he 
turned his back on the two “ strikers ” and picked 
up one of the frame pieces, “ never mind, Charlie. 
We’re not responsible for anybody but ourselves. 
You run over and get a couple more fellows to 
help us and we’ll have the tents up without the 
assistance of those two shirks. 


OFF FOR CAMP 


97 

“ There’s a chap over yonder who doesn’t seem 
to be busy just now. Call him over here,” he 
added. 

“ It’s one of the Tigers — that Burns fellow,” 
said Charlie with a questioning glance at Wilson. 

“ I don’t care if it’s a Tiger right from the 
jungle. Fetch him along and be quick about it, 
Taylor. This tent ought to have been all up 
by now. Scoot ! ” 

Taylor scooted, and presently was back with 
Billy at his heels — a very silent Billy, but with 
eyes and ears alert, and hands strong and will- 
ing, if somewhat clumsy. The three boys worked 
steadily and in a short time had the tent up. 

“ Now for the next,” Wilson said. “ It is to 
go about here. Come on and get it.” 

As he hurried towards the pile of canvas and 
frames, he saw that Barnes and Martin were lug- 
ging off one of the latter. 

“ The strike ended ? ” he inquired, trying to 
speak pleasantly ; but neither boy answered him. 

As they began setting up the second frame, 
Taylor said in a low tone, “ Look, Harding — is 
that where the Scout Master wanted that tent ? ” 

“ Why, no,” Wilson replied ; and called out, 
“ Say, Barnes, the Master told us to set all three 
of these tents along the edge of the woods here 
— not off there where you are putting that.” 

“ This is a better place. It makes no differ- 
ence — a few yards one way or the other,” re- 
turned Barnes gruffly. “ You mind your own 
business and let us alone. We’re not interfering 
with you.” 


98 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ But Mr. Marshall put me in charge of this 
business — you know he did.” 

“ Charge your grandmother ! ” retorted Barnes, 
and turned his back. Then to Martin he said 
in a lower tone, “ Rush it, Ben. We must have 
this all up in good shape before Marshall gets 
around again. Say, what are you looking so 
glum about, anyhow ? ” 

“ I’m wondering,” returned Martin doubtfully, 
“ if it wouldn’t be best for us to set this tent 
over there — where Wilson said. You know the 
Master did say it was to go over near the woods.” 

“I didn’t hear him say so. I’m sure he said 
here,” insisted Barnes, his tongue in his cheek. 
“If he wants it moved over there, why of course 
it can be moved; but I’m not going to budge it 
an inch under Will Harding’s orders. Now, shut 
up and work like the mischief. I want to get 
ahead of that crew yonder.” 

Both tents were up when the Scout Master 
returned, but a single glance at the faces of the 
boys told him that something was wrong. He 
spoke quietly to Wilson. 

“ Why did you put the third tent off there 
instead of where I told you to put it ? ” 

“ I didn’t, sir. Charlie, Burns, and I set up 
these two.” 

“ I put you in charge of the job.” 

“ I know. I ” He stopped, waiting for 

Barnes to explain. 

The Scout Master turned to the other two 
boys. “ Have you anything to say, Barnes — or 
Martin ? ” 


OFF FOR CAMP 


99 


Martin’s face was red and he said nothing. 
Barnes answered with a jaunty air, “ I didn’t 
suppose a few yards one way or the other would 
make any difference. Ben and I set up this one 
while they,” he nodded towards the other boys, 
“ were pitching the others.” 

“ Didn’t you understand that I put Harding 
in charge of the job? ” 

“ Why, no — I thought we were just working 
together. I didn’t take it that any one was boss.” 

There was a moment of silence. Then the 
|Master said, “ You are relieved from scout duty 
for the remainder of the day, Barnes.” His 
glance rested upon the badge on the boy’s coat, 
then passed to Martin’s flushed face, as he added, 
“ I will have a word further with both of you 
before bedtime.” 

As he turned away, Barnes chuckled. “ Off 
duty,” he repeated. “ Glad of it. Come on down 
to the lake, Ben, till dinner time.” 

“ I’m wondering if ‘ off duty ’ means ‘ off grub,’ 
too,” Martin remarked as they walked off. 

“ Not much. We’re paying our seven dollars 
a week — I reckon they can’t cut off the supplies. 
If they do — we’ll light out for home — that’s all.” 

“ But say, A1 — I’m thinking we’re fools after 
all to get into a row first off, so. We should 
have had lots more fun if we’d just joined in 
like the rest and obeyed orders.” 

“ You can knuckle under if you want to,” re- 
torted Barnes stiffly. “ I’m not used to being 
ordered around, and what’s more I don’t intend 
to get used to it. There’s no danger of Mar- 


100 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


shall coming down hard on us. He needs our 
money to pay expenses here. Of course those 
South-Enders— the Tigers — don’t pay much, if 
they do anything. It’s our crowd that pays the 
bills; and so I say the charity chaps ought to 
do the work of the camp. That’s fair, isn’t it — 
pay in labour since they don’t in money? ” 

“ How do you know they don’t pay ? ” 

“ Common sense,” Barnes answered. “ You 
know as well as I do that those chaps couldn’t 
raise seven dollars a week — or even five.” 

“ Maybe the Scout Master pays for them him- 
self.”^ 

Barnes laughed. “ Out of his schoolmaster’s 
salary? Well, I guess not much. I tell you we 
pay, and so I claim we have a right to do\s we 
please in this camp, and I, for one, mean to. V 
Martin was silent. He was rather a weak boy 
and Barnes often overruled his better impulses. 

Meantime the Scout Master had called for two 
volunteers for “ hard service.” Instantly half the 
Tigers, including Billy, and several from the 
other patrols, stepped forward. 

“ Good ! ” said the Master. “ Come over 
here.” He pointed to a farmhouse half hidden 
among the trees. “ We’ve got to bring all our 
drinking water from the well over there until we 
can locate a spring. There is one, I am told, 
somewhere about here. But we must have water 
right away. Miller, you and Turner can be the 
first water-bringers. You’ll find pails over there 
by the boxes.” 

Miller looked at the Scout Master with a dole- 


OFF FOR CAMP 101 

ful expression which was belied by the twinkle in 
his eyes. 

“ Mr. Scout Master,” he said, “ Fve heard that 
it isn’t good for growing boys to drink much 
water in hot weather. Won’t you please limit 
this troop to one glass a day per capita? ” 

A shout went up from the group. 

“ One glass! Why, I want four at least at 
each meal and two or three between meals,” cried 
one. 

“ He’d be a good one for the water service, 
Mr. Marshall,” retorted Miller. “ I move that 
he be added to the squad. As for me, I’m off 
the water-wagon for the next thirty days. Tea 
and coffee for mine.” 

“ Going to take your tea and coffee dry ? ” 
questioned Harding. 

“ Yes — tablets. Come on, Turner. If we’ve 
got to die, let’s be about it,” and Miller raced 
over for his pail. 

“Why couldn’t we use the lake water?” one 
of the boys asked. 

“ Not safe. We don’t want to risk typhoid. 
But we want some of the lake water for washing 
hands and faces, so, Meyer, you and Jenkins can 
take the other two pails and fill them at the lake 
landing. That’s such a short trip that you can 
go twice. It will take more than two pails of 
water to wash two dozen and one dirty faces 
and twice as many hands, and we shall all want 
a clean-up before dinner. Now, then — it’s 
mostly volunteer work to-day — who wants to 
make the coffee and cook the bacon for dinner? ” 


102 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ I can make bully — I mean, prime coffee,” one 
boy declared. 

“ I know you can — Fve sampled your coffee, 
Carter,” the Master told him. 

“ And I can cook bacon fine ! ” another 
shouted. 

“ Then you are the two men wanted, for 
bacon and coffee are all we are going to cook 
this noon,” the Master answered. 

“ But we want those mighty quick. I’m half 
famished,” a lean, lanky boy put in. 

“ He’s hollow way down to his shoe-soles — 
Scotty is. He’ll want a whole side of bacon,” 
somebody flung out, and Scott joined in the 
laugh that greeted that. 

The two volunteer cooks set to work at once, 
and in half an hour the whole troop was seated 
on the grass under some big oaks, enjoying with 
the hearty appetite of healthy, active boys the 
plain food that was set before them. It was a 
merry meal as well as a hearty one. The Scout 
Master encouraged fun and laughter, and con- 
tributed his share to the jokes and funny stories 
that kept the boys shouting. A half hour of rest 
and lounging followed the meal, then the Mas- 
ter’s whistle summoned the troop to work. 

“ Supper at six,” he announced. 

“ More water for that!” groaned Miller, try- 
ing to look dismal and failing completely. 

“ And now,” the Master went on, “ I’m going 
to ask you to work hard until five-thirty, so that 
the camp will be in good shape for the night. It 
looks like fair weather now, but a thunder storm 


OFF FOR CAMP 


103 


is liable to happen along any time up here by 
the lake, and we must ‘ be prepared ’ for that 
and anything else that we can foresee. Now 
then, Wilson, you understand about setting up 
the tents. You may as well finish that job and 
set up the other three. Any of the boys will 
help you. I want you manual trainers who 
worked with me this morning to help me finish 
the platforms. I’ll join you there presently. 
Sidney, do you remember the lesson I gave you 
one Saturday on the building of open air fire- 
places ? ” 

Sidney nodded. 

“ Well, then, take three or four boys and let 
them build a fireplace under your direction. I 
don’t want you to lift any stones, yet. The rest 
of you wait here until I set the boys to work 
on those platforms, then you can help me fix a 
shed for the food supplies and a shelter for the 
fire in wet weather.” 

“ And for the cook, too ? ” questioned Carter. 

“ Surely for the cook, too,” the Master agreed. 

“ Wet cook, wet griddlecakes ! ” flung out 
Miller. “ Say, Mr. Marshall, we shan’t have to 
lug water when it rains, shall we?” 

“ Not if you can make the rain fill your pails,” 
laughed the Master. 

It was a busy afternoon. The other three tents 
were set up by Wilson and his assistants, and 
the Master pronounced the work well done. 

“ Shall we move that other one over where 
you wanted it?” Wilson inquired; and the Mas- 
ter answered: 


104 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


“ No, let that remain where it is for the pres- 
ent. I want you to help now with the flooring. 
I didn’t really expect to get that down to-day, 
but those boys have worked so well that I think 
we shall. Then we’ve only to fill the ticks with 
the spruce tips and set up the folding cots, and 
we shall be ready for a good sleep.” 

With many willing hands helping, the flooring 
was laid in the sleeping tents. Each tent was 
large enough to hold four single cots with space 
enough to pass between them. But when the 
ticks were brought out, it was found that the 
supply of spruce tips was quite inadequate — 
there were not enough to fill half the beds. 

The boys who had gathered the tips looked at 
each other with blank faces. “ It seemed such 
a lot ! ” one of them said. 

“ It takes an awful long time to get ’em, too,” 
another added. 

“ Yes,” the Master agreed, “ it does take a 
long time, since we can use only the small tips. 
I’ll tell you what we’ll do for to-night. I’ll send 
some of you over to the farmhouse.” 

“ With the water pails?” Miller interrupted. 

“ Not this time, Miller. With a note asking 
the farmer if he can send us over a load of straw 
or hay — to fill the rest of the ticks. If he can’t 
send it — his teams may be busy — then each boy 
will have to carry over his own tick, fill it there, 
and bring it home on his back. Or, if you 
prefer, get another Scout to go along with you 
and help you bring it home.” 

He wrote a few lines on a card and handed it 


OFF FOR CAMP 


105 


to one of the boys, adding, “ Now be off with 
you. I want those beds ready by the time you 
are ready to tumble into them.” 

The boys set off, shouting the troop call as 
they went, and following it with the patrol calls 
one after the other. The Master noticed that 
Barnes and Martin did not go with the other 
boys. He said nothing to them, however, but 
crossed over to Sidney Hart, who was lying on 
the grass looking up soberly into the thick leaves 
of the oak above him. 

'‘Tired, Sidney?” he questioned. 

“ Yes — of everything,” the boy answered. 

“ Things will look brighter to you after a 
while.” 

The boy shook his head in silence. 

After a moment the Master went on, “ I want 
your help, Sidney. I haven’t time now, but later 
when we get the camp in order and things run- 
ning smoothly, you and I must have a ‘ tell,’ as 
the Scotch say. You are the one boy in the 
troop who can give me the help I want. Now 
I must see about the supplies for supper. It 
keeps me hustling to get enough for two dozen 
healthy appetites. That isn’t counting you — I 
noticed that you ate very little this noon.” 

“ I wasn’t hungry,” was the listless response. 

The Master went away, his heart sorrowful 
over the lad who was finding life so difficult at 
a time when he should have been carefree. 

An hour later a queer procession came winding 
around the end of the lake and up the bank to 
the camp. Two and two came the Scouts, bear- 


106 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

ing between them puffy ticks stuffed with sweet- 
smelling hay. Miller and Turner brought up 
the rear, each bearing two brimming pails of 
water. 

By supper-time the camp looked quite trim 
and shipshape, with the seven white tents — in 
each of the smaller ones four canvas cots neatly 
made up ready for use. All but one — the one 
that Barnes and Martin had put up stood apart 
from the others. No flooring had been laid in it 
and no cot. 

“ Going to leave us to sleep on the ground, 
evidently,” grumbled Martin, as he and Barnes 
sauntered about, looking at the sleeping quarters. 
“ It’s all your fault, Al. I told you you were 
a fool to kick up a fuss over nothing.” 

“ You told and you told!” mocked Barnes 
with angry impatience. “ You just hold your 
tongue. I tell you it will come out all right.” 

Martin shrugged his shoulders. It was all well 
enough for Barnes to be so independent if he 
liked, but as for him — Martin — he preferred to 
be comfortable. Also he rather dreaded that 
“ word ” which the Scout Master was to have 
with them before bedtime. And further, he was 
ill at ease in regard to the bedtime, seeing that, 
apparently, the bed would be lacking. 

At 5 : 45 , Miller, temporary water-bearer and 
permanent bugler for the troop, sent out a 
musical summons, in response to which the few 
stragglers came in with a promptness that indi- 
cated great readiness for supper. 

On boxes under the trees, a row of tin basins 



•• •'•••••• 




B 


ini? 


iw.; 


TENTS IN ORDER 























































’ 





OFF FOR CAMP 107 

and a supply of Japanese paper towels stood 
ready, for it was a rule of the camp that hands 
must always be washed before eating. 

The supper was plain but abundant. 

“ We’ll give you better meals when we get 
thoroughly organized,” the Master said. “ This 
is moving day, you know. You must always 
expect pick-up meals on moving day.” 

But nobody grumbled over the meal, though it 
was not quite such a merry one as the dinner 
had been. While the cooks and their helpers 
washed the few dishes two of the older boys 
were setting up a flagstaff. As it was after sun- 
set the flag was just run up for a moment and 
immediately lowered. 

“ But, of course,” as Jack Harding said ear- 
nestly, he, as the youngest Scout of the troop 
having been appointed to raise the flag this first 
time, “ of course we couldn’t sleep even one night 
without having had the flag up.” 

Dry stuff had been collected for a fire down 
beside the lake, but some were tired and pre- 
ferred getting early to bed, so the fire was left 
unlighted, ready for the next night. The Scout 
Master called the boys around him and gave 
them the few and simple rules of the camp — the 
hours for meals, for rising and retiring, and the 
camp bounds beyond which no one was to stray 
without permission, etc. 

“ That’s enough for to-night. To-morrow we 
will talk over some other matters. Taps will be 
sounded early this evening, for it has been rather 
a strenuous day for some of you. Thank you 


108 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

for your willing help, and a good sleep and a 
happy awakening for you all.” 

“ Plunge in the lake before breakfast ? ” some- 
body inquired. 

“ Yes — you can all swim.” 

While some of the boys went to bed at once, 
others remained a while longer stretched on the 
dry grass talking over plans. 

The Master called Barnes and Martin aside — 
out of hearing of their companions. “ Now, 
boys, I am ready to hear what you have to say 
for yourselves,” he said. 

Martin was silent. Barnes, leaning against a 
tree, his hands in his pockets, answered care- 
lessly, “ I don’t know that there is much to say, 
Mr. Marshall. I don’t see that Ben and I did 
anything very dreadful. Harding was pretty 
bossy — because you named him first — and I didn’t 
enjoy being ordered around, so I told Ben we’d 
leave him alone and put up one tent by ourselves 
— that’s all there was to it.” 

“ And why did you not put the tent where I 
said it was to go ? ” 

“ Oh, that — I didn’t suppose you were par- 
ticular as to the exact spot. I thought you meant 
anywhere along there, and where we pitched it 
seemed as good a place as any.” 

“ Do you think so now that all the tents are 
up.” 

“ Well,” Barnes admitted, “ that one, maybe, 
is a little out of line. We’ll move it over to- 
morrow, if you like.” This last, as if he were 
proposing a special favour to the Master. 


109 


OFF FOR CAMP 

“ Martin, have you anything to say? ” 

“ No, sir,” Martin answered in a low tone. 

“ I’m glad, at least, that you make no ex- 
cuses.” Then the Master turned again to the 
older boy. 

“ Albert,” he said, “ does your word mean 
nothing to you ? ” 

The boy flung back his head. “Of course it 
means something. I hope I’m a gentleman.” 

“ I’ve seen very little evidence of it in your 
conduct to-day,” said the Master. “ Wait ! ” as 
the boy began to speak angrily. “ When you 
joined the Scouts you took an oath — a solemn 
promise — to tell the truth — to be courteous — to be 
kind — to obey orders without question or argu- 
ment. Have you kept those promises to-day ? ” 

“ It wasn’t a solemn oath — at least I didn’t 
take it so,” the boy flung out in a sullen tone. 

“ You had no right to take it any other way. 
What occurred to-day is not all. You have 
shown anything but a kind or brotherly spirit 
towards those poor lads from the South End. 
You seem to consider them quite beneath your 
attention; yet, Albert, some of those boys have 
shown themselves more truly gentlemen in spirit 
than you have. They have never had half your 
chances, and they have everything against them 
in their homes and their environment, but they 
are improving steadily. Think it over, Albert, 
and don’t let the Tigers get too far ahead of 
you.” 

Barnes maintained a sulky silence. After a 
moment the Master spoke again. 


110 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


“ You remember that the Tigers were the first 
patrol in my troop. When I admitted the other 
two patrols, I hoped that you — my pupils — would 
help them by your example and your attitude 
towards them. Naturally they look up to you 
as, in a way, their models, even though they are 
unconscious that they do. I am sure you have 
not realised what you might be to them — what 
you might do to help them. If you had any 
realisation of this, you would not have set them 
such an example as you did to-day. I have not 
yet had to ask any Scout to give me back his 
badge, and I hope you will not be the first to 
bring that dishonour upon the troop. I am sure 
you will not. Make a new start in the morning, 
Albert. I shall know without any words from 
you if all is as it should be. Now, good- 
night.” 

He was turning away when Martin asked in 
a low voice, “ Where are we to sleep, sir? You 
haven’t told us.” 

“ In the tent you set up — to-night.” 

“ You mean we’re to fix it ourselves — now? ” 

“ Yes, as the other boys did — each arranged 
his own bed. You will find your cots beside the 
tent.” 

As he left them, Martin said, trying to speak 
cheerfully : 

“ Come on, Al. If we’ve got our own beds to 
make, let’s get about it. I’m dead tired. It’s 
been the meanest kind of a day, anyhow ! ” 

“ You’re right about that,” Barnes agreed 
sulkily. “ If there was a train back to town Jjo- 


OFF FOR CAMP 111 

night, I’d walk straight over to the station and 
take it. I’ve had enough of this camp already.” 

“ Oh, well, the trouble was all our own fault 
—we can’t deny that. Be a sport, Al, and stop 
sulking — do ! ” replied Martin impatiently. 

Barnes made no reply. He sauntered after 
Martin, and stood idly looking on as the other 
boy pulled the cots into the tent and set them 
up. Martin looked down at them in dismay. 

“ We’ve no beds — nothing but the empty 
ticks,” he said. 

“ Well, I call that a plaguey mean trick,” 
Barnes flared out angrily. “ I’ll get even with 
him for this.” 

“ Even with who?” Martin’s grammar was 
not his strong point. 

“ That old Marshall. He’s no business to leave 
us in this fix and we paying him full price for 
board.” 

“ Oh, come, Al, shut up ! I tell you I’m sick 
of all this rowing,” Martin exclaimed with quite 
unusual self-assertion. “ You can do as you 
please, but as for me, as long as I stay here I’m 
going to run with the current, not against it. 
It’s the only way to have a good time. Bet ye 
we’re the only fellows in this camp to-night that 
are ugly and dissatisfied. Buck up now and take 
your medicine like a man. I’m going to — and, 
as the Scout Master said, make a fresh start in 
the morning.” And with that he spread sheets 
and blanket over the tick and was soon in bed. 

“ ’Tisn’t half bad,” he declared. “ It’s like 
sleeping in a stationary hammock.” 


112 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Hammock ! ” snapped Barnes. “ Oh, hush 
up, yourself ! Pve heard all the chin-music I 
want from you for one day.” 

Martin made no reply. He never could keep 
awake after his head touched the pillow. 

With a scowl on his face and a heart full of 
bitterness, Barnes flung the bedding on to his cot 
“ any old way ” and stretched himself out on it, 
at odds with himself and the world. There was 
in him a curious streak of sullen obstinacy which 
made it almost impossible for him to admit him- 
self in the wrong. He would not admit it now. 
Of course it had been a wretched day ; but it was 
Will Harding’s fault — strutting around and giv- 
ing orders as if he were the Scout Master him- 
self — and it was old Marshall’s fault, getting 
money out of people and giving them a bare cot 
to sleep on, and no floor to the tent — all the 
other tents had floors. And it was Ben Martin’s 
fault, too. Ben had no more backbone than a 
jellyfish — Marshall could talk him into anything. 
And as to the Tigers, that Marshall said were 
better gentlemen than he — A1 Barnes — well, just 
wait a bit. If he stayed on — he didn’t believe 
now that he should, but if he did, he’d show up 
those South-Enders — that beggarly Bill Burns 

especially — he’d But here sleep overtook 

him and held him fast till he awoke to find Mar- 
tin standing over him and shouting cheerfully : 

“ Come on, Al. All out for a plunge.” 

Barnes sat up and looked out through the 
opening. From tent after tent slender pa jama- 
clad figures were issuing — all headed for the 


113 


OFF FOR CAMP 

lake. Should he go, too, or should he lie there 
and sulk ? There were Burns and that red- 
headed Tiger, in bathing trunks, scooting after 
the others. The thought of the lake glimmering 
in the morning sunlight was too tempting. 
Barnes sprang out of bed and followed the rest. 

“ Come on in, A1 — it’s fine ! Water’s just 
right,” Martin called from the lake where he 
was swimming like a fish. All over the end of 
the lake sleek brown heads were bobbing, with 
here and there a yellow one. Even the Scout 
Master was in the water — everybody except Sid- 
ney Hart. He sat on the bank, looking on. 

Barnes could not resist. With a gay whoop 
he ran out on the little landing and plunged head 
first into the clear water. 

Only a few minutes, then the Master came 
out, reminding the boys that there was barely 
time to dress for breakfast. So out came the 
reluctant boys, one after another, scrambling up 
the bank to rub dry and dress in record time. 

As they gathered for breakfast, the Master 
smiled as he looked about at the happy, healthy 
faces. Only Sidney — he looked neither happy 
nor healthy; but he was young, and time would 
set things right for him. And Barnes — the Mas- 
ter’s face brightened as he saw that the black 
cloud of yesterday was gone from Barnes’ face; 
and Martin was laughing and chaffing — actually 
chaffing one of the Tigers ! 

“ It’s all coming out right, I believe, after all,” 
the Master said to himself with immense relief 
and satisfaction. 


IX 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 

B REAKFAST over, the Master allotted 
certain tasks to each patrol for the week. 
One was to have charge of the cooking 
and cleaning up after meals, water supply, and 
firewood. The second to complete the work 
around the camp, and see that everything about 
it was kept in order. The third was to arrange 
the programme of scout studies, games, and 
activities, including the preparation of the 
weekly journal which would be read at the Sat- 
urday night campfires. Each leader was to be 
responsible for the seven boys under him — to 
decide what part of the work each one should 
perform and see that he did it. At the end of 
the week there would be a council where changes 
in the allotment of duties would be made. A 
Scout must always obey orders without argu- 
ment, but having obeyed, he might make known 
his objection to any order given, and his opinions 
would have due consideration. 

The Panthers drew the lot that made them 
responsible for the meals for the first week. 

“ And there isn’t a fellow among us that can 
cook worth a cent,” declared Barnes. “ The 
fact is,” he added impatiently, “ we ought to have 
a regular camp cook.” 


114 


115 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 

“ A regular cook — for a scout camp ! ” scoffed 
Bently Clark of the Owls. “ I thought one of 
the things we are out for is to do everything for 
ourselves.” 

“Well, why don’t you learn to cook, then?” 
demanded Barnes. 

“ Going to, next week, when the Owls have 
your job,” returned Clark promptly. 

“ Clark is right. It’s up to us to learn camp 
cooking as well as all the rest of it,” admitted 
Louis Ryder, one of the Panthers. He turned to 
his chum, a boy named Coe. “ Johnny, let’s you 
and I be the kitchen colonels this week, eh ? ” 

“ All right,” assented Coe with a grin. “ If 
the fellows can stand my cooking ” 

“You must make it so good that they’ll be 
sorry when your week ends,” said the Master. 
“ I’m a fair camp cook, Ryder ; I can help you 
out.” 

“ All right, then,” returned Ryder. “ I shall 
need some lessons, but I’ll try to make good.” 

“ That’s the right scout spirit,” the Master 
said. “ Now, the rest of you scatter and I’ll help 
Ryder plan the meals for a day or two.” 

An hour later the Scout Master, making a 
round of the tents to see that all was in order, 
saw Martin sitting, with rather a forlorn face, 
on his cot. 

“ What’s wrong, Martin ? ” 

Martin answered soberly, “ You know, sir, we 
started wrong yesterday — A1 and I.” 

“ But you’ve turned around, and now you are 
headed in the right direction, aren’t you?” 


116 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Yes, I mean it that way/’ the boy returned. 
“ And, Mr. Marshall, can’t we move our tent 
over by the others? You see,” he hesitated, 
“ it’s off by itself here — this tent — and it isn’t 
floored like the others, and only two cots in it 
instead of four, and — and — it seems, don’t you 
know, as if we were not in things — like the rest.” 

“ Yes, Martin, I understand. A broken law — 
that’s the trouble. You and Barnes broke some 
of the laws, and you are paying the penalty.” 

“ But — we’re not breaking any law now.” 

“ No, and so far as you are concerned, the 
penalty is paid.” 

“ Then we can move the tent and put the 
other two cots in ? ” Martin started up, his 
face brightening. 

“ Is Barnes as anxious as you are to have 
that done ? ” 

The boy’s silence answered the question. 
After a moment the Master said, “ I’ll see Barnes 
and let you know what is to be done about the 
tent. There he is over by the fireplace. You 
might run over there and send him here to me.” 

With an air of relief, Martin hurried off, and 
presently Barnes appeared. 

“ Barnes,” the Master began, “ have you any- 
thing to say about your tent here ? ” 

Barnes, slipping his hands into his pockets, 
answered as if slightly surprised, “ Why, no, 
sir, the tent’s all right. I’ve no complaint.” 

“ I’m sorry — I wish you had. Remember what 
I said to you last night. And one word more — I 
cannot allow to remain in this camp any boy 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 


117 


who does not obey, not only the letter but the 
spirit of the scout law. I want you now to sit 
down here and read over the whole of that law, 
and ask yourself whether you are honestly trying 
to live up to it.” 

He left the tent without another word. Five 
minutes later he saw Barnes laughing with the 
two cooks. Evidently he had taken brief time 
for consideration of the scout law. Then he 
saw Martin starting for the woods, his bedtick 
over his arm, and told two of the younger boys 
to go along and help him. 

“ How about the cots — yours and the other 
twa that were in the big tent last night? Are 
they to stay there?” one of the Tigers inquired. 

“ No,” returned the Master. “ You may move 
that tent ” — pointing to the one Barnes and Mar- 
tin had set up — “ over there in line with the 
others, and put Martin’s cot in it and these three 
from the big tent. Then you may take the 
small single tent you will find rolled up with 
two extra blankets over by the supply boxes, 
and set it up where that tent is now — the one 
you are going to move.” 

The Tiger saluted and went off to obey orders, 
and as he went he said to another, “ Wonder 
who’s to sleep in the single tent.” 

“ Why, the Scout Master, of course. Mebbe 
you thought you was goin’ to have a whole tent 
to yerself.” 

“ Aw, you think you’re smart, don’t ye ! Jest 
you wait,” retorted the other with a shrewd 
wink. “ Somethin’s up — you’ll see.” 


118 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

When Martin returned with his tick full of 
fragrant balsam tips, his face showed his satis- 
faction when he saw that the tent had been 
moved. Dropping his bed beside it, he hurried 
after the Master, saying: 

“ Is it all right ? Can we sleep in there ? ” 

“ You can. Make your bed up at once,” the 
Master answered, and gave the boy no chance 
to inquire about Barnes. But a moment later 
Martin felt a hand on his shoulder and turned 
to see Barnes with a satisfied grin on his face. 

“ I’ve come out on top, Ben.” Barnes pointed 
to the small single tent. “ Got one all to myself. 
Old Marshall rooms with you and Coe and Ryder. 
No night larks for you chaps ! ” 

“ I don’t care,” retorted Martin. “ I’m glad 
to be back with the crowd, anyhow.” 

“ Oh, you! You’ve about as much spirit as a 
clam ! ” And with that Barnes swaggered off 
in search of more sympathetic company. 

“ This scouting business has spoiled Ben — 
that’s all there is about it,” he told himself. 

Dinner that day was declared a great success. 
It must be admitted that the Scout Master had 
been the chief cook, but the two boys who helped 
were really anxious to learn, so it would not be 
long before they would be able to prepare simple 
dishes without assistance. The stone fireplace 
worked well — crotched poles at each side hold- 
ing an iron bar on which kettles could be hung, 
while stones were set at one side to hold a frying- 
pan over a slow fire. The Panthers had also 
fixed up a rough shelter for the fire and the 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 119 

cook, making it out of the wooden boxes in which 
the food supplies had been brought. One large 
packing box had been converted into a closet, 
the cover being hinged and supplied with a pad- 
lock for safety from possible prowlers. 

“ Now,” said the Scout Master when, dinner 
over, they lounged and chatted under the trees, 
“ it has been all work and no play so far, and 
this afternoon I think we’d better have some 
play. First, though, we must try to locate that 
spring ” 

“ ’Deed, yes ! ” put in Miller, looking for in- 
visible blisters on his hands. 

“ And after that we’ll have a canoe trip — a 
race, if you like — on the lake,” the Master added. 

This announcement was greeted with a cheer. 

“ But the working is fun, too,” cried Jack 
Harding, beaming upon the company from his 
place beside his brother, “ it’s all fun ! ” 

“ T’ree cheers fer the Kid ! ” yelled a Tiger, 
and the cheers were given with a vigour that 
astonished Jack, and even embarrassed him. 

“Whatever are they cheering me for?” he 
whispered to Wilson, who answered only by 
rubbing the boy’s yellow hair over his forehead. 

Sidney, being yet far from strong, was left 
in charge of the camp, but all the others joined 
in the search for the spring. In half an hour it 
was located — not as near the camp as they had 
hoped, but still much nearer than the farmer’s 
well ; and the return was made with all speed, for 
the boys were eager to be on the water. 

Half a dozen canoes were lying on the float 


120 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


and four rowboats were moored to it when the 
boys swarmed down to the lake with a gay 
clamour of shouts and calls that woke the echoes. 
It was hard to choose. Those slender green 
canoes were most enticing, but in a race the 
boats would surely win with any decent pulling. 
Many longing glances rested on the Master’s 
boat, a long slender little craft, “ The Arrow.” 

The Master left the boys to decide for them- 
selves between boats and canoes, and after con- 
siderable discussion two were assigned to each 
of the canoes, leaving twelve for the three boats. 
Wilson was going in one of the rowboats, and 
when Jack and Billy had tumbled eagerly in he 
called to Sidney: 

“You’ll come with us, won’t you, Sid?” 

But the Master interposed. “ I’d like Sidney 
to go with me if he will,” he said. “ He’d better 
wait a while before he handles the pars, and I 
need practise in that line.” 

So Sidney silently took his place in the “ Ar- 
row,” and Wilson, looking after him, wondered 
half impatiently when he would begin to act like 
his old self. This grave, silent, indifferent fellow 
was so unlike the chum who, in the old happy 
days, had been the life of the crowd. “ What’s 
done is done, and all the worrying in the world 
won’t change it now. Why can’t he just let it 
all go and forget it?” Wilson said to himself. 
If he had been in Sidney’s place he would have 
known why. 

Then Wilson looked at Billy. “ Can you 
row ? ” he asked. 









ONE OF THE BOAT CREWS 














































■ ■ : , i no mm . ■ 







A RACE ON THE LAKE 


121 


“ Some,” returned Billy. 

“ Well,” Wilson eyed him doubtfully, “ you’ll 
have to do the best you can, for Carter’s no 
good with the oars, he says. There’s not much 
chance of our winning.” 

“ Never mind, Will, it will be just as much 
fun to see somebody else win, won’t it? ” put in 
Jack in his contented voice. 

Wilson’s frown vanished as he looked down 
into the earnest little face. “ What’s the odds ? ” 
he agreed. “ We can’t all win every time.” 

The Scout Master’s whistle gave the signal for 
the start, and the ten boats flew forward. But 
the canoes were soon left behind. The Master’s 
boat swept swiftly on until it was well in the 
lead, and for a while the three others followed 
almost in line; then two of them began to pull 
ahead. Wilson gave Billy an approving glance. 

“ You’re an old hand at it, I see,” he said. 
“ Maybe we’ve a chance after all.” 

“ I’ve rowed on the river lots o’ times,” Billy 
returned, his eye on the other boat, “ but Nolan’s 
in that one, an’ he pulls better’n me.” 

“ Oh, but Barnes can’t beat Wilson,” put in 
Jack eagerly. “ Wilson’s won lots of races ! ” 

Wilson grinned at Carter, who was facing him. 
“ Nothing like having a kid brother to boom 
you,” he said, too low for Jack to hear. 

Carter nodded rather soberly. He was think- 
ing of the three kid brothers at home — thinking 
that none of them ever looked at him as Jack 
looked at Wilson. Was it — perhaps — his own 
fault? Carter had never before asked himself 


122 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

that question. He had fallen into the habit of 
considering younger brothers as rather a nui- 
sance, to be ignored or ordered around. It oc- 
curred to him just now that it might be rather 
a pleasant thing to have a kid brother — like 
Jack. 

“ Oh, we’re gaining — we’re gaining ! ” cried 
Jack a few minutes later. 

“ Sit steady, Kid — no gymnastics,” warned 
Wilson, “ or we’ll lose sure.” 

“ ’Scuse me, Will — I forgot,” Jack flashed a 
smile at the back of his brother’s head ; then sat 
still as a mouse, the colour coming and going 
in his cheeks as he watched the other boat. 
“ I’m ’fraid they’re catching up,” he admitted 
to himself, under his breath, presently. 

They surely were creeping slowly ahead. 
Wilson saw it and so did Billy. 

“ Steady, steady, Billy,” Wilson warned. “ If 
we can just keep even till we make the Point, 
we may win on the home stretch yet.” 

“ I’m doin’ me best,” returned Billy sadly. 

“ You’re doing all right,” Wilson answered, 
“ but don’t let up.” 

Jack held his breath. He dared not speak an- 
other word, but his blue eyes constantly swept 
from one boat to the other, and he drew a long 
breath of relief when, at the same moment, the 
two reached the Point where the Master’s boat 
was waiting. 

“ A tie ! ” shouted Sidney ; and the Master 
repeated, “ A tie.” 

“ Well! ” said Wilson, drawing a long breath. 

(r 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 123 

“ That’s a heap better than I expected when 
we started, Billy.” 

“ Oh, but I did hope we’d be just a little 
ahead,” admitted Jack sorrowfully. 

Wilson turned and laughed at him. “So? 
How about it’s being most as much fun to see 
somebody else win — eh, old man ? ” 

Jack laughed ruefully. “ I s’pose it ought to 
be, but I guess it isn’t — quite,” he acknowledged. 

Wilson called a friendly challenge across to 
Barnes, but Barnes answered it only by a nod. 

“ He’ll be mad for a week if he loses,” re- 
marked Carter. 

“ Yes, Al’s a poor loser,” replied Wilson, “ but 
I’m not at all sure that he will lose to-day. Billy 
and I have done our best.” 

They waited at the Point until the other boat 
came up, and then the canoes with Frazer far in 
the lead. 

“ Hurrah — hurrah for Don ! ” yelled Jack, and 
Frazer gaily waved his paddle in response. 

Suddenly the Master bent to his oars and sent 
his slender craft darting like a bird over the 
water till he reached the last canoes. 

“ Gee! He’s some oarsman — the Master!” 
exclaimed Wilson, watching him admiringly. 

“ Right you are ! ” exclaimed Carter. “ I heard 
he was on the winning crew at Yale.” 

“ Easy to believe that,” returned Wilson. 
“ See him come now ! ” 

The Master’s shell flew back to the Point. 
Again the boats and canoes were ranged in line, 
and at the signal, they set off on the return. 


124 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Once more the slender racing shell slipped swiftly 
and easily ahead, and again Barnes and Wilson 
followed neck and neck. 

“ Barnes is red as a turkey cock/’ chuckled 
Carter when they had covered half the distance. 
“ Bet ye he’s jawing at Nolan.” 

Billy’s mouth widened in a silent grin. If only 
Barnes would nag at Nolan ! Billy knew what 
effect that would have on Nolan’s fiery temper. 

“ Steady, Billy, steady. Don’t get rattled,” 
Wilson muttered warningly. 

“ I ain’t,” replied Billy, with a glance out of 
the corner of his eye at Nolan’s set face. 

“Oh, we’re ahead — we’re ahead!” breathed 
Jack softly. “ We truly are!” 

They were, but Barnes saw it and promptly 
recovered the lost ground. 

“ Gee, but we’re going some ! ” cried Carter, 
his voice shaking with excitement as the boats 
flew through the water. 

“ So are they,” added Jack mournfully. 

Wilson was silent, his lips set tight. They 
were nearing the landing when he spoke again. 

“ Now, Billy, now pull for all you’re worth! ” 

Silently Billy responded, and inch by inch they 
gained, while Jack held his breath, and Carter 
with glowing eyes watched and waited. 

“ Hard, hard, Billy ! Just once more ! ” mut- 
tered Wilson, and with one last effort, the boat 
shot ahead, reaching the landing a scant twelve 
inches before the other. 

The Master was standing on the float as the 
boats came in, and he called out to Wilson and 


125 


A RACE ON THE LAKE 

Billy, “ Well won ! ” Then to Barnes and Nolan 
he added, “ But barely won. You made them 
work hard for it, boys.” 

Barnes made no reply. He flung himself out 
of the boat with an angry jerk and walked off 
alone. But Nolan slapped Billy on the shoulder 
as he said with a good-natured laugh: 

“ I’ll beat ye next time, but I’ll not be in the 
boat with him,” nodding towards Barnes. 

“ You came mighty near beating us this time,” 
Wilson acknowledged. 

“ Here comes Don, way ahead again,” broke 
in Jack, his eyes still shining with delight over 
Wilson’s victory. 

“ Look at him — cool’s a cucumber,” said Car- 
ter, watching admiringly as the canoe came 
swiftly on, the water flying in sparkling showers 
from its prow. 

“ Don’s always cool. That’s one reason he’s 
so often a winner,” said Wilson. 

Frazer laughed in response to the applause 
that greeted him as with his dripping paddle in 
his hand, he stepped out on to the landing; and 
as the second canoe came up, he called to Miller : 

“That was a corker! You surely are some 
with the paddle, Charlie.” 

“ You can afford to say that,” Miller flung back 
gaily, “ but ’twas a jolly good race, anyhow. Did 
Wilson win?” 

Jack’s happy voice responded, “ Sure he did ! ” 


X 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 
supper that evening the Scout Master 



noticed that Billy was not eating much. 


Also that he sat off by himself, quite 
away from Jack. This was very unusual. Billy’s 
appetite had heretofore been always in evidence, 
and he seldom failed to be at least within speak- 
ing distance of Jack — though it was always Jack 
who did most of the talking. To-night Jack was 
sitting very close to his brother, the radiant smile 
gone from his face, and his tongue as silent as 
Billy’s. The Master wondered what had hap- 
pened and determined to investigate, but Billy 
saved him the trouble. As he finished his own 
supper Billy suddenly appeared at his side. 

“ Kin I — tell ye somethin’ ? ” the boy asked, 
lifting troubled eyes to the Master’s face. 

“ Of course. Come,” and the Master led the 
boy aside to a quiet spot. 

Billy suddenly stuck out his hand. “ I’m 
givin’ it back to you,” he said, and dropped his 
badge — the most cherished of all his new pos- 
sessions — into the hand of the Scout Master. 

The Master’s face was very grave. “ Sit 
down here and tell me what has happened, Billy,” 
he said. 


126 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 127 

For a moment Billy choked ; then he found his 
voice and said, very low, “ I be’n cussin’ again, 
an’ I pitched inter a feller an’ knocked him 
down.” 

“ What for, Billy ? ^ 

“ ’Cause he called me a t’ief. Mr. Marshall ” 
— the boy’s eyes were full of pleading — “ I ain’t 
that now — a t’ief — you know I ain’t ? ” 

“ I know you are not.” The Master’s hand 
rested kindly on the boy’s shoulder. “ You 
struck before you thought?” 

Billy nodded. Again he held out his right 
hand, now tightly clenched. “ It gets that-a-way, 
an’ I hit out ’fore ever I know it,” he said, and 
there was more than misery, there was despair 
in his face and voice. “ An’ the bad words — 
you don’t know how ’tis. I learned ’em when 
I couldn’t talk plain. The men used to set me 
up on a table in the s’loon an’ make me say all 
them words. Then they’d laugh, an’ give me 
pennies an’ drink. An’ in the gang ’twas the 
same — they say them words all the time — the 
words you tell me I mustn’t say any more. But 
I guess I can’t ever stop meself usin’ ’em. I — 

I don’t believe it’s any use to try — fer me ” 

The low voice trailed off into miserable silence. 

“ Billy, listen to me,” said the Master. “ You 
have put up a splendid fight against such odds 
that I’ve been surprised to see how often you 
have won. I suppose I can't realise fully how 
hard it is for you to break yourself of all these 
bad habits — fighting and swearing and all the 
rest of it — but I know it is dreadfully hard, and 


128 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

no boy could possibly help failing sometimes. 
But there is use in your trying, Billy — Oh, there 
is — for you are going to win this big fight with 
your old bad self. You are going to win! I am 
sure of it” 

Billy drew a long sighing breath and his droop- 
ing head was lifted a bit. The Scout Master 
went on : 

“ I’ll keep this badge for a while if you want 
me to — not as a punishment, but to help you. 
You can come to me and get it again whenever 
you like. I shall just be holding it for you.” 

Billy looked a shade less miserable, but only 
a shade. 

“ There isn’t any trouble between you and 
Jack, Billy?” 

Billy’s eyes opened in surprise. “ Me an’ the 
Kid? There couldn’t be,” he said simply. 

“ Well, my boy, you did right to come to me. 
Come always when anything troubles you. You 
and I are friends, you know — friends for al- 
ways.” He held out his hand and Billy’s rough, 
square fingers clung to it for a moment ; then he 
saluted and turned slowly away. 

A little later the Scout Master came across 
Wilson Harding and Sidney Hart. 

“ We were looking for you, sir,” the former 
said ; and then he added, “ I — I’ve got to tell you 
something, and I hate it like fury.” 

“ Better have it over as quickly as you can 
then,” replied the Master, his quiet voice belied 
by the anxiety in his eyes. 

“ It’s about Burns.” 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 129 

“ Ah ! ” There was relief in the Master's 
voice. Wilson caught it and went on. 

“ I guess you don't know all about Burns, Mr. 
Marshall. Sid and I happened to see a bit of 
a scrap between him and another of the Tigers 
a little while ago, and Burns not only flew at the 
other fellow and knocked him down, but swore 
a blue streak at him — not just a word or two, 
you know, but a regular stream of gutter talk. 
And that isn’t all. It seems he’s a thief — he 
stole a lot of things at the school where he goes. 
I wouldn’t have told you about this — I hate tale- 
bearing ” — Wilson’s head went up — “ but there’s 
Jack, you know. He’s been so chummy with 
Burns, and you seemed to think Burns couldn’t 
do him any harm, but after this, I don’t think 
I ought to let Jack be with him. He isn’t fit to 
go with any decent fellow — Burns isn’t.” 

‘'Have you told all this to Jack?” the quiet 
voice of the Master questioned. 

“ Well, not all — but I told him that Billy was 
a thief and that he must keep away from him.” 

“And what did Jack say about it?” 

Wilson shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 
“ He’s all upset over it. Wouldn’t believe a 
word till he had to, and even now I expect he’s 
hunting up excuses for Burns.” 

“ The dear lad ! ” said the Master under his 
breath. 

“What did you say, sir?” 

The Scout Master did not answer. He took 
Billy’s badge from his pocket and held it out. 
The two boys stared from the badge to the 


130 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


Master’s face, and waited. After a moment 
Alan Marshall said in a low tone, full of deep 
feeling, “ That is Billy’s badge, boys — the most 
precious thing he has ever owned, because it is 
to him the symbol of the first chance he has 
ever had to be anything more or better than a 
4 gutter-snipe ’ or a young tough. He came to 
me right after supper to-night and handed this 
to me because, he said, he didn’t think he was 
fit to wear it; and he told me what happened 
this afternoon, blaming nobody but himself.” 
Then, still in that low voice full of deep feeling, 
the Scout Master told to the two boys the whole 
of Billy’s sorrowful story — told it as it could 
be told only by one whose heart was full of love 
and sympathy for the boy who was fighting 
against such overwhelming odds. 

“You boys have your temptations — your 
battles to fight,” he said, “ but they are hardly 
worth mentioning beside the life and death 
struggles that a boy like Billy has to face when 
he tries to cut loose from the evil habits that have 
bound him hand and foot. He has had every- 
thing against him. When I think of it all, it 
seems to me he is one of the bravest fellows I 
ever knew. It’s a tremendous fight he is putting 
up ! The wonder to me is, not that he fails and 
drops back now and then, as he did to-day, but 
that he doesn’t fail ten times as often.” 

Both boys were silent. It was Sidney who 
spoke first. “ Mr. Marshall,” he said slowly, “ I 
never in my life felt quite so small and mean as 
I do now. I’d like to ask Billy’s pardon.” 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 131 

The Master smiled, laying his hand on the 
boy’s shoulder very kindly. 

“ I wouldn’t do that, Sidney, but just give him 
a pleasant word or smile now and then, and 
above all, let him feel that you count him in — 
instead of shouldering him out — when anything is 
going on. If you older boys had the least con- 
ception of what you might so easily do for boys 
like Billy and the Tigers, I’m sure you would be, 
not only willing but eager, to do it.” 

“ But the Tigers — the rest of them — aren’t 
like Billy,” Wilson objected. “ I mean they 
haven’t had such a hard time as he has. They 
are just rough and — common — don’t you 
know ? ” He looked at the Master to see if he 
had made his meaning clear. 

Sidney nodded. “ I feel that way about the 
Tigers, too,” he admitted. 

“ Your feeling is very natural ; but if you could 
get at the real facts, I’m sure you would feel 
differently. It is true that the others haven’t 
had such a hard time as Billy — they all have 
homes of a sort, and somebody to take an interest 
in them, after a fashion. But they are not like 
your homes and your parents. If we could know 
the whole story of their lives — their tempta- 
tions and triumphs, their struggles and regret 
over failures — I’m sure we should not find a 
single one of those boys simply dull and stupid, 
or ' common ’ and ‘ tough.’ When I look at one 
of them, Sidney, I see in him a man of the 
future; and who can tell into what kind of a 


132 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

man he may develop if we only give him a fair 
chance ? ” 

In the moonlight the faces of the two lads 
showed a new thoughtfulness. Again Sidney 
was the first to reply. 

“ I’ve often wondered, Mr. Marshall, why you 
were contented to be just a school teacher. I 
think I begin to understand now.” 

“ Yes,” was all the Master answered, and then 
he turned and led the way back towards the 
rest of the troop, who were eagerly discussing 
plans for the next day. 

Only once the Master turned to say to Wilson, 
“ I’d rather you would say nothing more to Jack 
about Billy. I’ll tell him, if you don’t mind,” 
and Wilson answered gravely: 

“ All right — you tell him.” 

Soon the moon, high in the heavens, shone 
down upon the camp, and made the lake gleam 
silvery between its wooded banks. The shining 
water and the boats lying motionless and empty 
at the landing called to the boys, and they begged 
for an hour on the lake. The Master agreed, 
only stipulating that it should be an hour of quiet 
drifting and paddling — no racing or frolicking — 
and no boat to go beyond a point which he 
named. With a shout the boys were on their 
feet and scrambling pell-mell down the bank, 
the older ones following more leisurely. The 
Master stopped Jack, stepping soberly along at 
his brother’s side. 

“ Jack,” he said, “ I’m going to sit on the 
landing while the boys are out. Will you keep 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 133 

me company, or would you rather go on the 
water with Wilson ?” 

“ I don’t mind. I’ll stay if you want me to,” 
Jack answered indifferently, “ if Wilson doesn’t 
care.” 

“ All right. Maybe you’d better stay to- 
night,” Wilson agreed, and the boy stood on the 
float, watching the others as, in boats and canoes, 
they drifted out on the silvery water. 

Billy, seeing that Jack was not going with the 
rest, had paused with a doubtful glance at him; 
but when the Master said kindly, “ Billy, you 
and Martin can take my shell if you like,” the 
boy’s face flushed with pleasure. To go in the 
Master’s own boat! That was high honour in- 
deed. He was in the slender craft in a second, 
and Martin scrambling hastily out of one of the 
larger boats, tumbled in after him. “ Gee, Billy, 
we’re the nobs this time ! ” he cried. “ I’d rather 
have this than a canoe twice over.” 

But as they glided silently away from the 
landing, Billy looked back at the slender fig- 
ure standing so straight and still beside the 
Master. 

“ I’m wonderin’ why the Kid didn’t come too,” 
he muttered in a disappointed tone. 

“ Never mind why,” replied Martin. “ Say, 
Billy, this is a bully little clipper. By George! 
I’d like to pull an oar in a race with a craft 
like this.” 

But Billy’s pride and pleasure were marred by 
the harassing thought that something was wrong 
with the Kid. “ He never even looked at me — 


134 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


not once,” he said to himself, and the glory of 
the hour was dimmed for Billy. 

But when the Master’s whistle recalled them, 
and canoes and rowboats came one after an- 
other back to the landing, it was the old Jack 
with the shining eyes and the warm smile who 
sprang forward to greet Billy and ask him a 
dozen eager questions about the Master’s boat. 
And he walked at Billy’s side up to the camp, 
and when he said good-night, held out that slim 
white hand of his and gave Billy’s clumsy paw 
a warm and friendly grasp. And so, in spite 
of discouragement over his failures, and grief 
over his missing badge, Billy went to bed with 
a happy feeling deep down in his heart. The 
Kid was still “ friends ” with him and the Mas- 
ter was sure he was going to win out — and 
nothing else mattered much. 

In that hour by the lake the Master had told 
Jack the truth about Billy, but told it in such 
a way that Jack understood as he never before 
had understood, what life meant to a boy like 
Billy. “ A foul-mouthed thief and a tough,” A1 
Barnes had called him in Jack’s hearing. Now 
understanding, Jack cried out eagerly, “ Why, 
Mr. Marshall, he is fighting like the old knights, 
isn’t he? Fighting the bad things in himself 
instead of dragons and things.” 

“ That’s it, Jack, and we must all help him.” 

“ Oh, I will, of course — I’ll be glad to help 
him ! ” the boy cried, and he could hardly wait 
for Billy to come back that he might show his 
eager friendliness. 


A BADGE SURRENDERED 135 

The next week things went smoothly at the 
camp, with morning lessons in woodcraft, sig- 
nalling, map-drawing, and first aid, interspersed 
with swimming and rowing matches and track- 
ing. Every boy in the troop was eager to secure 
a Second or a First Class badge; and the lessons 
were all so interesting — so much more interesting 
than the things learned from books — except the 
cooking. Some of the boys liked that too, but 
to others cooking and dish-washing were 
drudgery. There was no shirking them, however. 
A certain amount of culinary skill must be gained 
before the coveted badges could be worn. So 
though there was much good-natured grumbling, 
there was no shirking. 

Milk, butter, fresh eggs, poultry, and vege- 
tables were obtained by previous arrangement at 
the farmhouse, and other supplies were sent out 
from town. When the third load was brought 
over from the railroad station, there came with 
it a big box directed to Barnes. It contained a 
huge plum-cake, cookies, doughnuts, and a great 
box of candy. Barnes generously made it all 
common property, and the supper that night 
was a feast. 


XI 


WHEN IT RAINED 

F OR ten days the weather had been perfect, 
and the boys of Troop 5 had almost for- 
gotten the possibility of a wet spell when 
one morning they awoke to find the rain beating 
upon the tents and the wind thrashing among the 
branches overhead. With much good-natured 
grumbling and some not so good-natured, the 
boys hurried into their clothes, and one after 
another scuttled across from their sleeping 
quarters to the big tent. Until now all meals 
had been taken out of doors, and the big tent 
had been quite neglected. 

“ Great Scott ! What a deluge ! ” exclaimed 
Miller as, his sweater over his head, he ducked 
under the flapping canvas that had been hung 
over the doorway. “ Say, fellows, I’m glad 
’tisn’t my turn to cook to-day. Hurry up break- 
fast ! ” he shouted to the two boys who were 
certainly cooking under difficulties calculated to 
try their tempers. The wind and wet deadened 
the fire, the wood was drenched, and the shed 
that was supposed to protect the fire and the 
cooks was open on all sides but one. 

“ Gee, Clark, those Tigers sure will get their 
fur wet this morning,” Miller declared with a 
chuckle. 


136 


WHEN IT RAINED 


137 


“ That’s nothing — it’s all the same as a 
morning swim,” laughed Frazer. The cook- 
ing had fallen to the lot of the Tigers this 
week. 

“ But say ” — it was Sidney Hart who spoke, 
looking out at the wet cooks — “haven’t those 
chaps any ponchoes?” 

“ Nary a one,” drawled Barnes carelessly. 
“ Raincoats aren’t the style in the South End, 
don’t you know.” 

Without reply, Sidney caught up his own rain- 
coat and hurried with it over to the dripping 
Tigers. 

“ Well, I’m blest,” exclaimed Barnes, “ if he 
isn’t lending his London slip-on to one of those 
beggars ! ” 

The next moment Wilson Harding caught up 
his coat and followed Sidney’s example — and 
both cooks were protected. 

The Scout Master, coming from the store 
closet, gave the two boys a quick smile. “ Thank 
you, boys; it was a kind thought,” he said, and 
with his hands full, went over to the assistance 
of the cooks. A few minutes later he ran across 
to the big tent. “ Well, boys,” he greeted them, 
“ you see it can rain up here when it really tries. 
As you see, the cooks are having difficulties. 
They’ll have some hot coffee and oatmeal ready 
in a few minutes, however. You’ll have to sit 
on the floor this morning, but by dinner-time 
perhaps we’ll have better accommodations. A 
day like this,” he added, “ is rather trying in 
camp, but it gives plenty of opportunities to be 


138 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

cheerful under difficulties, and you know cheer- 
fulness under fire is a scout virtue/’ 

“ How about cheerfulness under water ? ” 
queried Miller. 

The Master laughed. “ Fire or water,” he 
amended. “ There come the boys with the milk 
and I think breakfast is about ready. Anybody 
volunteer to help bring in cups and plates ? ” 

There were a dozen volunteers, and presently 
there was a procession of boys laden with plates, 
cups, milk pitchers, etc., followed by the two 
cooks with big pails of cereal and pots of coffee, 
and the meal was as merry as any that had 
preceded it. 

“ Never appreciated this big tent before,” 
Frazer remarked, “ but I’m making up for that 
to-day.” 

“ Needs a table and chairs though, when it’s 
used as a dining-room,” said Harding. 

“ We’ll have it furnished with both before 
night,” the Master said. 

“ How ? Oh, I see — you mean we’ll make 
’em,” cried Clark. 

“ Yes, that’s what the stuff out there is for.” 

“ It will be some wet to work with — that stuff, 
won’t it? ” inquired Frazer. “ I thought I heard 
a little sprinkle on the roof just now,” and he 
wiped off some drops that were trickling from 
his wet hair. He had been one of the proces- 
sion. 

“What if it is wet?” scoffed a Tiger. “So 
are we.” 

“You are too wet, Jenkins. You must get 


WHEN IT RAINED 139 

into dry clothes as soon as you’ve finished break- 
fast,” the Master told him. 

“ Huh ! Wet won’t hurt me — I’m used to it,” 
replied Jenkins with a careless shrug. 

A moment later, Sidney Hart spoke in a low 
tone to the Master. 

“ Mr. Marshall, I was wondering if those fel- 
lows have any clothes to change into.” 

“ I doubt if they have much,” the Master an- 
swered in the same tone. 

“ Oughtn’t we to have some extras on hand — 
trousers and jackets or sweaters, and shoes ” — 
Sidney’s eyes had noticed the soggy, worn shoes 
of Jenkins — “ to loan those chaps in an emer- 
gency like this ? ” 

“ I wanted to bring along half a dozen such 
changes, Sidney, but — well, you know this 
isn’t exactly a money-making proposition — 
this summer camp, and I couldn’t do it this 
time.” 

“ Father would send them to us, I’m sure, if 
you will give me a list of sizes and prices and 
where to buy them and all,” returned Sidney. 

The Master answered quickly, “ That would 
be a great help. I’ll gladly give you the list. 
Of course boys like the Tigers are used to going 
about in all weathers without much protection, 
but still, as you say, a change of garments ought 
to be possible in an emergency. Sidney — I need 
an assistant Scout Master. Are you willing to 
serve ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” the boy answered instantly, and 
the look with which the Master answered that 


140 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

brought a flush to Sidney’s face as he turned 
away. 

“ No need to wash dishes to-day — just set ’em 
out and the rain will do it for you, Sullivan,” 
suggested Miller to one of the cooks when 
breakfast was over. 

“ Good enough. Let the rain do it,” shouted 
Clark, and soon a long line of cups and plates 
was set outside, and certainly they all got at 
least a preliminary washing. 

All other work was put aside that morning, 
and the big tent became a carpenter shop, the 
whining of saws and pounding of hammers going 
steadily on amid a clamour of talk and laughter, 
with here and there a whistle by way of varia- 
tion. The Scout Master directed the work. 
Two of the older boys made the measurements, 
and everybody helped in sawing and nailing. 
By dinner time two tables, rough but strong and 
steady, were completed, and four benches and 
five chairs stood ready for use. 

“ One chair for the Master of course, and one 
for each patrol leader — that’s four. Who claims 
the fifth?” 

Every face was turned curiously as Barnes 
asked the question, and on every face but one 
there was a swift flash of surprise as the Master 
answered, “ The fifth is for my assistant Scout 
Master, Sidney Hart.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Jack Harding, and throw- 
ing back his shoulders he gave the new assistant 
Master a formal salute, while Wilson grasped 
his friend’s hand and shook it heartily. 


WHEN IT RAINED 


141 


“ Anything to make him get busy,” was Wil- 
son’s thought, “ but who’d ever have believed that 
Sidney Hart would have cared a rap about such 
fellows as those South-Enders ? ” Then he re- 
called what the Master had told him and Sidney 
about Billy Burns, and his wonder died. The 
Master certainly had made it seem well worth 
while to lend a hand to such a chap. Wilson’s 
face was very thoughtful as he gathered up 
some of the scattered bits of wood from the 
floor. 

With white oilcloth which the Master had 
brought, spread over the boards, the tables looked 
very clean and attractive, and while some of the 
boys carried off the tools and bits of lumber, 
others dashed out into the rain and gathered up 
the rain-washed dishes, wiped them, and set them 
on the new tables. The cooks had prepared a 
savoury “ camp stew,” which was brought in 
steaming hot, and found vastly appreciative con- 
sumers on that chilly wet day. 

“ This has been the shortest morning since 
we’ve been in camp,” Taylor declared as he 
passed his bowl for a second helping of the 
stew, and another added : 

“ It’s no end of fun making tables and chairs.” 

“ How would you like some — well, we’ll call 
it engineering work ? ” the Master inquired. 
“ I’ve been thinking ” — he glanced at Miller with 
a twinkle in his eye — “ that we might, at small 
expense if we do the work ourselves, lay some 
pipes from our spring to the camp, and bring the 
water here.” 


142 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Miller sprang up on the bench and waved 
his arms. “ Moved and seconded,” he cried. 
“ All in favour, say ‘ aye/ ” and the thunderous 
aye that followed made the dishes rattle on the 
table. 

“ We’ll look over the ground when it clears/’ 
the Master said, when the tumult had subsided, 
“ and if there is nothing to prevent I’ll order the 
pipes and we’ll soon have our own water sup- 
ply.” 

“ The man who owns the land won’t object? ” 
somebody inquired. 

“ No,” the Master returned, “ I know the 
owner very well, and I can answer for him. He 
won’t object.” 

“ Say, Mr. Marshall, it’s leaking into our tent. 
My bed’s sopping wet!” cried Jenkins, one of 
the Tigers, who had been helping the cooks. 

“ That’s bad. I’ll attend to it at once,” and 
the Master, slipping on a raincoat, followed the 
boy to his tent. Most of the other boys ran out 
to see if their beds were also getting wet, but 
they found all the other tents in good condition. 
Only in one of the Tigers’ tents the Master dis- 
covered a defect in the canvas where the rain 
had found its way in and soaked two of the 
beds. 

“ We must dry your bedding over the fire 
this afternoon, and to-night you two must sleep 
in the big tent. To-morrow I’ll send to town 
for a fly to put over your tent, so there’ll not 
be another experience like this,” the Master said. 
“ You must not sleep in wet beds,” 


WHEN IT RAINED 143 

“ My bed’s wetter than those, and the ground’s 
a perfect mush,” growled Barnes, elbowing his 
way roughly past the Tigers, into the tent. “ I 
can’t stand this sort of thing, Mr. Marshall.” 
His tone was peremptory. 

“ Is there a leak in your tent ? ” the Master 
inquired. 

“ Don’t know whether there is or not. There’s 
plenty of water there — and mud!” 

The Master went over to the small tent, Barnes 
and the Tigers following. The ground under 
the tent hollowed just enough to make a shallow 
basin which had been filled by the heavy rain 
running from the higher ground. The bedclothes 
were draggled and wet, but the bed itself and the 
pillow were dry. Alan Marshall sent the two 
Tigers off to attend to their own bedding before 
he said to Barnes: 

“ You have no one but yourself to blame, 
Albert. You set the tent first in this hollow con- 
trary to my orders, so this one was set in the 
same place. It could have been moved at any 
time, had you chosen to do it, and you could 
have had a platform under it if you had chosen 
to make it. Even as it is, your bedding would 
not have gotten wet if the bed had been properly 
made up. You took advantage of the fact that 
inspection was omitted this morning and made 
up your bed in a careless, slovenly fashion, with 
the bedding not tucked in as it should have been.” 

“ I didn’t come here to do servant’s work any- 
how,” the boy flung out insolently. 

The Master reached over, unfastened Barnes’ 


144 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

badge, and put it in his pocket. Then he said 
sternly, “ Barnes, from the first day here you 
have shown yourself utterly lacking in the 
true scout spirit. You have disobeyed orders, 
grumbled and criticised, and have shown a most 
unkind and unbrotherly spirit to some of your 
comrades. Now you must take your choice. 
Either you will change entirely your attitude and 
conduct or you will leave the camp — go home 
to-morrow by the first train/’ 

“ I’ll go home. I’ve had enough of this — 
more than enough,” the boy cried out, his face 
dark with anger. 

“ Very well.” The Master turned away, but 
Barnes called after him: 

“ I can’t sleep to-night in this mess.” 

“ You can move your cot to the big tent for 
to-night,” the Master replied. 

Barnes yanked off the bedding, flung over it 
his rubber blanket, and carried the bundle to the 
big tent. Then he shouted to a boy who was 
scudding through the rain, “ Come here you, and 
help me carry this cot ! ” 

The boy turned and paused uncertainly for 
a moment before he obeyed the imperative sum- 
mons. It was Billy Burns, and his face reflected 
the scowl on Barnes’ face as he took hold of 
one end of the cot and helped carry it over to 
the big tent. 

“ Now . go back and get my suitcase and bring 
that over,” Barnes ordered, as Billy dropped his 
end of the cot. 

Again the boy hesitated. For a moment he 


WHEN IT RAINED 


145 


stood, his eyes full of smouldering wrath as he 
faced Barnes ; then without a word he turned and 
went out again into the rain. When he came 
back with the suitcase there was such a different 
expression on his face that even Barnes noticed 
it. Billy looked almost pleased. 

“ He’s heard I’m going and that’s what he’s 
grinning over,” was the thought that flashed 
through Barnes’ mind. He snatched the suit- 
case from Billy and flung it into a corner beside 
the cot. 

“You were long enough about it!” was all 
the thanks he gave for the service rendered, but 
as Billy turned away there was on his homely 
face an expression of sly — almost malicious — 
satisfaction. 

Frazer, who had heard Barnes’ curt remarks, 
caught a glimpse of Billy’s face as he turned 
away and said to Wilson Harding who stood 
near him, “ Burns looks as if he’d got even with 
A1 somehow.” 

“ Hope he has,” returned Harding in a low 
tone. “ Al’s gone out of his way to be mean 
to Billy ever since we’ve been here, and he 
hasn’t been halfway decent to Mr. Marshall. I 
wish he’d clear out — leave the camp.” 

Frazer nodded, and going to the entrance, stood 
for a moment looking out. The rain was still 
coming down steadily, and the thick low-lying 
clouds gave no promise of clearing. “ Too bad 
to have such weather ! ” he said as he turned 
back. 

“ Not a bit of it. It’s a fine chance for you 


146 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

all to see what a good time you can have in 
spite of the weather,” the Master said, over- 
hearing Frazer’s lament. “ I believe,” he went 
on as the boys gathered about the table where 
he was standing, “ that most of you have passed 
the tests for the Second Class, so I propose that 
we spend this wet afternoon, or a part of it, in 
practice for the First Class badge. After that, 
you know, you can work for any of the merit 
badges. Four of the ten tests required can be 
done here under cover. We’ll practise first with 
the signalling. Harding, you and Frazer are 
well up on that. You two go over to tent 6 — 
that’s the farthest off — and we’ll signal from 
the doorway here, and see how well you can 
read our messages.” 

The two boys ran through the rain to the 
other tent, and for an hour the practice was 
kept up — other boys taking the place of Hard- 
ing and Frazer as they learned the meaning of 
the signals. Not only right reading of the sig- 
nals, but time also was counted — sixteen letters 
per minute being the time limit allowed. 

After this, each boy was required to draw 
from memory a rough sketch of the camp, in- 
cluding the lake, the nearest farmhouse, and the 
spring, giving also the points of the compass. 
There were groans over this from many of the 
boys, and some of the maps were far from 
accurate, but others were very good. 

“ Say, Mr. Scout Master, don’t we all get a 
hundred on Number 8 — ‘producing an article 
of carpentry’?” Miller demanded, glancing 


WHEN IT RAINED 147 

proudly at one of the chairs over which he had 
laboured. 

The Master laughingly quoted the final words 
of Number 8 — “ ‘ made by himself satisfactor- 
ily. ’ ” 

Miller shrugged his shoulders. “ I won’t in- 
quire whether you mean to imply that I didn’t 
drive every nail in this chair myself, or whether 
the job is not ‘ satisfactory,’ ” he returned. “ I 
suppose we shall have to produce some hand- 
carved parlour chairs before we shall be con- 
sidered eligible for the First Class,” and he 
dropped back on the bench with his usual cheer- 
ful grin. The next moment he was on his feet 
with a whoop of delight, crying out, “ It’s clear- 
ing — it is, sure pop! There’s a streak of sun- 
light.” 

There was a rapid stampede that left in the 
tent nobody but the Scout Master, and Barnes 
who had spent the afternoon sulking over a book, 
and taking no part in the talk or occupations of 
the others. Now he rose and lounged out, and 
the Master followed. 

“ Don’t see what we can do outside. The 
ground is like a sponge and the woods dripping 
wet,” said Clark. 

“ So’s the lake wet — but no wetter than usual,” 
retorted Ryder, giving him a poke in the ribs. 

“And it’s too late for boating— almost five 
o’clock,” the Master added, “ so why not spend 
the next half-hour on Number 5 — ‘What to do 
in case of accidents ’ ? Then you will have cov- 
ered half the ground for the First Class badge, 


148 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


and we can take all day to-morrow for outdoor 
work and play. The wind has changed. It’s 
coming from — well, from which direction is it 
coming ? ” 

Fingers were wet and lifted — the points of the 
compass decided, and then a dozen voices an- 
* nounced that the wind was from the northwest. 

“ Right — the quarter for fair weather. I 
prophesy a fine day to-morrow, and if the wind 
blows all night as is likely, it will dry ofif the 
ground so that to-morrow should be an ideal 
day for tracking. We might try that or a 
treasure hunt.” 

“ Treasure hunt — a treasure hunt!” the boys 
shouted. “ We haven’t had any treasure hunt 
yet.” 

“ We’d got that down for this week anyhow,” 
one of the program committee announced. 

“ Then let us finish up one more test to-day. 
Half an hour should do it easily,” the Master 
said, and the boys trooped back into the tent, 
some a little reluctant, but nobody grumbling. 

The Master gave out three questions: 

“ How would you attempt to rescue a drowning 
person in clear water — or through broken ice ? 

“ Or recover one apparently drowned ? 

“ Or take a person from a burning building? 

“ Describe your method as clearly as possible 
and in the fewest words.” 

For half an hour pencils and fountains pens 
were busy as the boys bent over their papers. 


XII 


LOST— A FOUNTAIN PEN 


♦ 


half-past five, the Scout Master called for ' 



the papers and sent the boys out till 


supper-time. They found Barnes stand- 
ing near the fire talking to the cooks. One of 
these, Jenkins, called out as the others ap- 
proached : 

“ He says he’s lost his fountain pen,” with a 
nod towards Barnes. 

The boys crowded around Barnes, half a dozen 
speaking at once. 

“ Not that Jim-dandy one with the gold han- 
dle?” cried Martin. 

Barnes nodded. 

“ When did you have it last? ” 

“ Maybe you dropped it in the big tent.” 

“ Looked in all your pockets ? ” 

Barnes answered the last question first. “ Of 
course I’ve looked in all my pockets. I had it 
this morning — it dropped out of my pocket when 
I was putting on my coat.” 

“ What’d you do with it, then ? ” 

“ I don’t remember. But I couldn’t have lost 
it. No place to lose it.” 

“ Then what’s become of it ? ” Harding in- 
quired. 


149 


150 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Barnes gave him a significant glance, but made 
no other answer. 

“ Have you hunted for it in your tent — where 
you slept ? ” 

“ Of course,” said Barnes impatiently. “ Easy 
to see it isn’t there. The tent’s empty now.” 

“ Well, maybe you dropped it in the big tent, 
then, when you brought over your cot and bed- 
ding,” said Harding. “ Come on, boys — let’s all 
hunt for it.” Then, as the boys scattered, some 
running to the sleeping tent and some to the 
big one, Wilson, following the latter, said in a 
low tone to Sidney : “ It must be found. If it 
isn’t,, it would be just like Barnes to accuse some 
one of stealing it, and then there’d be the mis- 
chief to pay.” 

Sidney nodded, and involuntarily his eyes 
turned to Billy, who was bending over a map 
that Jack had spread out on a box. Wilson’s 
glance followed Sidney’s, and a quick change 
passed over his face. Sidney noticed it. 

“What is it?” he demanded. 

“ I — was thinking of something. No, I’d 
better not tell you — not yet, anyhow. I don’t 
believe it was anything, really.” 

“ It would be just like Barnes to accuse Billy,” 
Sidney said, and Harding agreed. He was 
thinking of the sly smile he had surprised on 
Billy’s face earlier that day, after he had brought 
over Barnes’ suitcase. 

A thorough search of the two tents and the 
ground between them was quite fruitless. The 
boys even shook out Barnes’ bedding and looked 


LOST— A FOUNTAIN PEN 151 

into his pillow-case, and the pocket of his pa- 
jamas, but no fountain pen appeared. When 
they went back and told him so, Barnes smiled 
significantly. 

“ I didn’t expect you’d find it,” he said. “ I 
should have been surprised if you had.” 

At that Jenkins broke out angrily, “ ’F you’ve 
got anythin’ to say why don’t ye say it ’stead of 
grinnin’ and hintin’ ? ” 

“ That’s right,” Frazer agreed. “If you’ve 
anything to say, Al, say it out. I hate hinting, 
too.” 

“ Well, then, if you want to know my opinion, 
here it is. I believe that my pen is in some- 
body’s pocket, and that somebody is not me.” 
Barnes forgot grammar in his excitement. 

“ Hm ! That’s plain talk, certainly,” replied 
Frazer. “ Now, Barnes, it’s only fair to all of 
us — since we’re all under suspicion if any one 
is — to say what reason you have to suspect any- 
body. In a place like this it would be easy 
enough to lose the thing. You might have 
dropped it in the mud and stepped on it without 
noticing — with the ground as soft as it is now.” 

“ Only I know I didn’t,” Barnes flung out. 

“ Say — what’s the fuss about ? ” It was Billy 
who, seeing the crowd about Barnes, had drawn 
near, and now asked the question in a low tone 
of Jenkins. Jenkins gave him a half suspicious 
glance and drew away a little as he answered 
shortly : 

“ It’s Barnes’ gold fountain pen — he says it’s 
lost.” 


152 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

Both Harding and Frazer had heard the ques- 
tion and the answer, and Billy, now looking at 
them, read in their faces something that brought 
into his a sudden swift wave of red. The cor- 
ners of his mouth settled into the old weary 
droop and so did his shoulders as he turned and 
slowly walked away from the group. Harding 
and Frazer exchanged glances and, a moment 
later, they too left the group. 

“Did you notice how red he got?” Frazer 
asked. 

Wilson nodded silently. 

“Do you believe it, Harding?” Frazer ques- 
tioned in a low tone. “ Do you believe he had 
anything to do with it ? ” 

“ I certainly don’t want to, Don. And we’ve 
no reason to ” 

“ You saw him when he brought over Al’s suit- 
case,” Frazer interrupted. 

“ I know,” Wilson admitted reluctantly. 

“What shall we do?” inquired Frazer after 
a moment’s silence. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to tell Mr. Marshall. 
He won’t believe it of Billy, though, I’m sure.” 

“ But you’ve heard what they say about 
Burns?” Frazer asked. 

“ Of course. ‘ Give a dog a bad name and 
hang him,’ ” quoted Wilson, the more impatiently 
because of his own misgivings. “ I say, Don, 
if you knew as much about Billy Burns as I do 
you’d feel — well, you’d give most anything to 
prove him innocent of this.” 

“ I would, anyhow,” returned Frazer promptly. 


LOST — A FOUNTAIN PEN 153 


“ For a fellow that’s had no chance, I think 
Billy’s shown up enough sight better than A1 
Barnes.” 

“ You’re right there ! ” Wilson agreed with 
emphasis. “We can’t do anything till after sup- 
per, anyhow,” he added, “ for it’s almost six 
now.” 

The call to supper came in a few minutes. The 
Scout Master, who had been busy over the pa- 
pers of the boys, saw in their faces as they gath- 
ered about the table that something was wrong. 
The talk was fitful and constrained, and the few 
jokes that were attempted fell flat. Barnes sat 
silent and sulky, but that was to be expected 
under the circumstances, and the Master did 
not connect him with the unusual silence at the 
table. Finally he caught an exchange of glances 
between Harding and Frazer, and when the meal 
was over and the boys were leaving the dining- 
tent, he detained the two, and soon had the whole 
story. 

“ I wish you would tell Barnes I want to see 
him,” he said to Frazer, “ and Billy, too. If 
you can manage it, speak to them without at- 
tracting the attention of the others.” 

“ Poor Billy,” the Master said half to him- 
self, as Don went off on his errand. 

“ You don’t believe he took the pen, Mr. Mar- 
shall?” Wilson asked anxiously. 

“ No, but I think I can tell surely when I look 
into his face,” the Master answered, and the 
next moment Billy entered the tent. Just inside 
the door he stopped short and stood — so Wilson 


154 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

thought — the picture of guilt, his face red, his 
eyes downcast, the old hangdog look about his 
face and figure. 

“ Billy, come here, please,” the Master said. 
His voice was very kind, and as the boy shuf- 
fled towards him, the Master’s hand dropped 
with a friendly touch on the boy’s drooping 
shoulder. “ Look at me, Billy,” the kind voice 
added, and Billy lifted his troubled eyes and 
looked straight up into the eyes that had never 
yet looked at him with coldness or suspicion; 
and as he gazed, a great change passed over his 
face. The trouble and misery seemed to melt 
slowly into a smile* — very brief it was — a smile 
that seemed afraid to linger in a strange place, 
so quickly it was gone. 

The Master held out his hand, and his smile, 
warm and heart-cheering, answered the look in 
the boy’s eyes. 

“ It’s all right, Billy — nothing for you to worry 
about,” he said, as Frazer and Barnes entered. 

“ Now, Barnes,” the Master said quietly, “ tell 
me about your fountain pen.” 

“ Nothing to tell except that it’s gone,” Barnes 
answered shortly. 

“ You’ve no idea when or how you lost it?” 

“ I’ve no idea that I did lose it. I couldn’t 
have.” 

“ Pm not so sure. I’ve known of some very 
queer losses — I mean of things lost and found 
again in queer ways. I understand that Billy 
here helped you bring your things over from 
the other tent.” 


LOST— A FOUNTAIN PEN 155 

“ Yes,” Barnes admitted, scowling at Billy, 
and then deliberately turning his back on him. 

“ He brought over your suitcase ? ” 

“ Uh huh,” said Barnes. 

“ Have you looked for the pen in the suit- 
case? ” 

Harding surprised a swift, anxious look just 
then, a furtive look out of the corner of Billy’s 
eye. 

“ It couldn’t have been in the suitcase because 
I locked that this morning when I took out my 
woolen clothes, and I had the pen after that.” 

There was no doubt then about the look of 
relief in Billy’s face, Wilson was sure of that. 

The Master went on, “ Well, what’s your 
theory ? What do you think became of the pen ? ” 

“ I think,” Barnes spoke deliberately, “ that I 
dropped it on the ground in my tent and that 
some one found it there.” 

“ And who was in the tent — to your knowl- 
edge?” 

“ No one but you and I — and him,” a slight- 
ing gesture towards Billy indicated him as the 
third. 

“ Did you see the pen, Billy ? ” the Master 
inquired, speaking with marked courtesy and 
kindness. 

Billy shook his head, a sullen, dogged look 
dropping like a mask over his face. 

The Master turned again to Barnes. “ I feel 
very sure,” he said, “ that your pen will come 
to light. Meantime, I shall ask you to say noth- 
ing more about the matter to any one.” 


156 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Very well,” returned Barnes, and without 
another word he turned and left the tent. 

“ And, Billy, you are to forget all about this. 
It will come right somehow. Just keep your 
eyes open and you may find the pen .lying around 
somewhere.” 

Billy made no reply, but as he moved slowly 
towards the door there was no lightening of 
the cloud on his face. He forgot to salute the 
Scout Master — following Jack’s example, he had 
been very careful about this — and slipped out of 
the tent without another word. 

“ I’d have paid for that pen twice over rather 
than have suspicion thrown on that boy just 
now,” the Master said with a sigh. 

“You don't think he took it, then?” Wilson 
asked doubtfully. 

“ No. Yet I admit that it would not have been 
at all strange if he had found it and slipped it 
into his pocket.” 

“ And Barnes has — well, he’s been pretty 
rough with Billy more than once.” 

“ Yes, I know,” returned the Master. “ But 
you see there is really no evidence against Billy 
except the fact that he was in the tent after 
Barnes left it.” 

“ And he went then to do A1 a favour — to 
bring over his suitcase,” Wilson added thought- 
fully. 

“ Wilson, I wish you would take a little pains 
to be friendly with Billy to-day. If, as I be- 
lieve, he is innocent, he’ll need all the friendli- 
ness and confidence we can show him, for nat- 


LOST— A FOUNTAIN PEN 157 


urally, the boys to whom Barnes has been talking 
will be inclined to cold-shoulder Billy because of 
his past record.” 

“ Yes, sir, I will,” Wilson agreed heartily. 

When he left the tent, he looked for Billy, but 
he was nowhere in sight, and Wilson was at once 
called over to a group of boys who were dis- 
cussing plans for the next day. Jack and some 
others of the younger boys were wild for a 
treasure hunt, and it was finally decided that, 
with the approval of the Scout Master, they 
would have on the morrow an all-day excursion 
combining the treasure hunt and a chase. The 
discussion over details was long and animated, 
and after it was over, when Wilson again remem- 
bered Billy, Jenkins said he had gone to bed. 

“ I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” Wil- 
son told himself. 

When he was in bed, however, with Jack al- 
ready asleep in the adjoining cot, Wilson found 
himself unaccountably restless and wakeful; and 
as he lay there he thought of Billy, with the 
heavy handicap of his past, creeping off alone to 
his cot to brood over this thing, knowing that 
most of the boys would surely believe him still 
a thief. 

“ Poor old chap ! ” was Wilson’s last thought 
before sleep at last came to him. 


XIII 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 

T HE next morning was comfortably cool, 
promising an ideal day for the proposed 
expedition. An ideal day for anything 
to the healthy, merry boys who came out after 
their plunge in the lake feeling fit and ready for 
any sort of doing. The sight of Barnes — not in 
uniform — standing with a detached air near the 
big tent, brought forth a chorus of questions, 
for he had told no one the night before of his 
departure. Now he announced it with a curious 
air of defiance, and he stood in a curious attitude 
with one hand behind him. Suddenly, with a 
jeering laugh, he flung a. dead snake at the 
group before him. It struck Taylor in the face, 
then with an odd writhing motion as if it were 
still alive, it dropped on to the shoulder of Jen- 
kins. Jenkins jerked it off with a snarl of rage 
and sprang at Barnes, but Nolan, his patrol 
leader, caught his uplifted arm and pulled him 
back. 

“ Steady, steady/’ he warned. “ No fighting 
among Scouts.” 

“ I say, Barnes, what d’you mean by that, 
anyhow ? ” demanded Harding indignantly. 

“ Well,” Barnes defended himself, “ some of 

158 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 159 

you thought you’d play a fine trick on me, I sup- 
pose — sticking that in my suitcase. If I’d only 
known which of you fellows put it there I’d have 
rubbed it in his face.” 

“ Well, I didn’t have anything to do with it, 
an’ I ain’t thankin’ you fer flinging it at me,” 
growled Jenkins. 

“ Nor I — haven’t even seen a snake since we 
came here ! ” exclaimed Taylor indignantly. 

“ Well, somebody put the thing in my suit- 
case,” retorted Barnes coolly, and turning on his 
heel he walked off. 

With a sudden swift remembrance, Harding 
turned to Frazer and beckoned him away from 
the group. “ Say, Don,” he said, “ I’m wonder- 
ing — you rememfcer Billy’s look when he brought 
over that suitcase yesterday? You noticed it?” 

“ Yes,” chuckled Frazer, “ and I’ll bet this is 
what it meant — he’d stuffed that dead snake into 
Al’s suitcase.” 

“ And who blames him ? I don’t, for one.” 

“ Nor I, for two,” returned Wilson. “ I won- 
der where he found the thing.” 

“ A1 said he locked his suitcase, didn’t he ? ” 

“ He said so — yes, but you know how careless 
he is. Maybe he didn’t.” 

Nobody was really sorry that Barnes was leav- 
ing, for though he was generous in his way and 
could be good company when he chose, his tem- 
per was uncertain, and the boys knew that he 
was not in sympathy with the scout spirit. And 
this experience with him made them rather 
glad than otherwise to see the last of him. So 


160 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

•the call to breakfast was a welcome interruption 
and was answered with cheerful alacrity. 

It was Jack who was the first to notice that 
Billy was not at the table. “ Where is Billy ? 
Is he sick?” he inquired of one of the Tigers 
who slept in the same tent with Billy — a red- 
headed Irish boy named Sullivan. 

“ Sure I dunno. I ain’t seen him this 
mornin’,” Sullivan returned. 

There was quick concern in the Master’s face 
when he noticed Billy’s absence. He left his 
breakfast unfinished and went out to look for him. 
He went first to the sleeping tent, where he found 
Billy’s cot made up neatly ; that was unusual, as 
the cots were left to air until after breakfast, 
when each boy made up his own bed and put 
all his belongings in order. And on the cot, 
carefully folded, lay Billy’s uniform with his hat 
and staff beside it. 

At once the Master understood. “ He’s gone, 
poor chap,” he said to himself. “ And I’m sure 
he had no money for car fare — he must have 
set out to walk the whole fifty miles.” 

While he stood thinking, the three other Tigers 
came racing over from breakfast. At sight of 
the Scout Master in their tent, they stopped, with 
swift glances about to see if there was anything 
especially disorderly for which they might be 
called to account. 

“ Burns made his bed before breakfast this 
morning, I see,” the Master said. 

“ Yes,” replied Finnegan, “ he was out before 
any of us woke.” 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 161 

“ Does he often get up so early? ” 

“ Yes, he often goes down for a swim before 
the rest of us get there.” 

“He’s a good swimmer?” For a brief mo- 
ment the Master thought of the possibility of 
cramp or some other accident to a boy alone in 
the lake. But the three boys laughed. 

“ Billy couldn’t drown no more’n a cork or 
a fish,” Jenkins declared. 

“ Reckon he was born swimmin’,” chuckled 
Sullivan. 

But as the Master, grave and silent, left the 
tent, the boys exchanged uneasy glances, won- 
dering if there could be anything wrong with 
Billy. One of them suggested that he might 
have “ cut an’ run.” 

“ Billy — leave this ? ” cried Sullivan. “ Sure 
an’ ye couldn’t have hired him to go.” 

“Right ye are, Tim!” Finnegan agreed, 

“ only ” he added doubtfully, “ fer that 

gold pen o’ Barnes. If Billy did crib that, 
mebbe ” 

“ You’re a fool ! ” retorted Sullivan promptly. 
“ Billy never seen that gold pen. If he’s gone, 
it’s ’cause he couldn’t stan’ bein’ blamed fer what 
he nivir did.” 

“ I dunno,” the other maintained stubbornly, 
“ you know what he done — before.” 

Quite forgetting scout courtesy, Sullivan 
promptly jabbed a hard fist against the freckled 
nose of the other boy as he declared, “ I’m 
thinkin’ you’d better kape yer mouth shut, Sam 
Finnegan. We know some t’ings about you 


162 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

that you ain’t so proud of now-days — an’ that’s 
no lie ! ” 

Finnegan subsided into silence, whereupon 
Sullivan relented enough to admit in a more 
friendly tone, “ Faith, an’ we all uster do some 
t’ings we ain’t braggin’ of now; but when a fel- 
ler’s a-tryin’ to live square, I say — let’s wipe off 
the slate, an’ not kape rakin’ up ag’inst him what 
he done one time. Ain’t that right, fellers ? ” 

And the “ fellers ” unanimously agreed that it 
was right. 

“ Hurry up now wid these beds — I see Nolan 
cornin’,” Sullivan added, and began hastily to put 
his own in order. 

A few minutes later, the Scout Master’s whis- 
tle summoned the whole troop; and as the boys, 
obeying the call, gathered about him, they saw 
at once that something unusual had occurred, 
and guessed that it had to do with Billy. The 
Master’s face was very serious as he looked 
around the circle. 

“ Boys,” he began, “ I suppose you all know 
that Barnes lost yesterday a valuable fountain 
pen. There is no certainty that it was stolen — 
no real evidence against any one, and I do not 
myself believe for one moment that any boy in 
this troop would be guilty of theft — or would 
keep a thing which he found in the camp even 
if he did not actually steal it. But Burns has 
been practically accused of taking this pen. 
Some of you know what a hard life Billy has had, 
and all of you know that at one time he did take 
what did not belong to him. But you know, too. 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 163 

that he has been trying very hard to live down 
that evil past and do what is right. Some of 
you have been kind and helped him — you never 
can know how much your kindness and friend- 
ship have meant to him,” — the master’s eyes 
rested for a moment on Jack Harding’s intent 
face, — “ but some of you have not always remem- 
bered that ‘ all Scouts are brothers,’ and have 
sometimes been unkind to the boy who was mak- 
ing the bravest fight of you all. He came to me 
— Billy did — a while ago, and handed back his 
badge because, he told me, he had used bad lan- 
guage and been fighting, and he didn’t think it 
was any use for him to try any more. Boys, 
who do you think was most to blame that time — 
Billy, or the boy who had taunted him with the 
evil he was trying so hard to live down — taunted 
him till he forgot himself and struck out with 
his fists?” 

One face was scarlet now, and one boy slipped 
silently in behind his fellows, as the Master 
went on, “ I do not believe that Billy has touched 
Barnes’ pen — if he had, he would not be missing 
this morning. He knew that he was not guilty, 
but he could not endure to stay and know that 
some of you believed him still a thief. So I’m 
afraid he has gone away — started off to walk 
fifty miles back to the city. Can you guess how 
heavy his heart was when he slipped away this 
morning with no breakfast, no money, and not 
even a word of farewell to those of us who, he 
knows, are his friends ? ” 

The silence that followed was broken by Jack 


164 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

— Jack with his eyes wet with tears he never 
thought of hiding. 

“ Can’t we go right after him and bring him 
back— oh, can’t we, Mr. Marshall?” the boy 
pleaded, and a score of voices seconded the re- 
quest. 

“ He can’t have gone far yet.” 

“We can overtake him before he’s much be- 
yond the station if we hurry.” 

“Can’t we start right away? We’re losing 
time,” they cried. 

So luncheon was hastily put into haversacks 
and in a little while Troop 5 was on the road — 
all but two boys left in charge of the camp. 
Barnes went along with the rest, as their first 
objective point was the nearest station where he 
was to take the train. Barnes was not happy. 
Nobody seemed to care that he was leaving the 
camp — not even Ben Martin. All they could talk 
about was that Burns fellow, and they all acted 
as if he — Barnes — were to blame because Burns 
had cleared out. Probably he was sick of the 
camp, too. And they might say what they 
pleased — he believed that Burns had found that 
fountain pen. So ran Barnes’ thoughts as he 
walked with the others, but no longer one of 
them. It was growing warmer fast, and Barnes, 
with his raincoat over his arm, and his 
leather suitcase, soon began to feel uncomfort- 
able. 

“ Say, I can’t keep up this pace,” he com- 
plained, “T’ve got on heavier clothes than the rest 
of you, and this suitcase to lug.” 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 165 


“ We’ll tote the bag — each of us can carry it 
for a few minutes,” returned Martin cheerfully 
— too cheerfully to suit Barnes, who thought 
Martin altogether too unconcerned over his — 
Barnes’ — departure. But though he scowled at 
Martin, he promptly accepted his offer and gave 
him the suitcase. 

“ I’ll carry your raincoat,” Miller added, and 
Barnes handed it over. 

The mile and a half to the station was covered 
in record time. It was a little country station, 
and the man in charge said he had seen nothing 
of any other boy. He had indeed been only a 
few minutes at the station before the arrival of 
the troop. Mr. Marshall made careful inquiries 
about the road, and the station master said the 
route to the city was some ten miles longer by 
the road than by the railroad. The question then 
arose as to which way Billy had gone. 

“ The road crosses the railroad about three 
miles further on,” the station agent said. “ You 
might catch your boy there. Case of runaway, 
eh ? ” he inquired with a sly laugh. 

“ A case of misunderstanding,” the Master cor- 
rected gravely. “ The missing boy is one of my 
best Scouts. He will be glad to return with us 
if we can only overtake him.” 

He went into the station and sent off a tele- 
gram to Barnes’ father to inform him when the 
boy would reach the city. This was barely done 
when the whistle of the approaching train was 
heard. 

“ Here’s your suitcase, Al,” said Frazer hastily. 


166 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ And here — don’t forget your raincoat/’ added 
Miller. 

As he hastily threw the coat over Barnes’ arm 
something dropped out of the pocket. A dozen 
boys knocked heads as they stooped to pick it 
up, and as many voices cried out in one breath, 
“The pen! AVs pen!” Barnes himself stared 
at the pen, his face burning red. 

“ I — I can’t see how it came there,” he stam- 
mered as he slipped it into his pocket. “ Some 
one must ” 

But the scorn in the faces around him was too 
much. In very shame he left the sentence unfin- 
ished, and was glad to hide himself in the train 
that drew up to the station at the moment. With 
a hasty good-bye he stumbled up the steps and 
vanished within the car. 

The boys on the platform did not stop to send 
even a glance after the departing train. Nobody 
gave a thought to Barnes then. They were all 
eager to overtake Billy and bring him back to 
the camp. 

The station agent looking after the little com- 
pany swinging rapidly down the road, wondered 
more than a little about the runaway they were 
all evidently so anxious to overtake. 

They were anxious. Every boy in the troop 
now was eager to make up to Billy for the in- 
justice that had been done him. 

“ If only he’d worn tracking irons so we could 
trace him,” Jack said, “ but all the footprints look 
alike here, and we wouldn’t know Billy’s, any- 
way.” 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 16? 

The Master said little as they marched. He 
had not fully realised before how much he had 
grown to care for this boy of the streets, but 
now, facing the possibility of seeing him give 
up in discouragement and despair the ground he 
had won so hardly, Alan Marshall told himself 
that he could not let this boy go — he must be 
found. He must be helped ; and as he looked into 
the earnest faces of the boys, and caught now 
and then a sentence or two, he knew that if Billy 
could be found now and brought back, his place 
in the troop henceforth would be quite different 
from what it had been. 

But as the hours slipped by it began to look as 
if they would not overtake Billy. There was no 
sign of him anywhere along the lonely country 
road. No one in the few scattering houses they 
passed had seen such a boy go by. Where the 
road crossed the railroad track they halted, and 
the Scout Master and two of the older boys went 
a mile up the track, but met no lonely figure 
trudging along the ties. Returning to the cross- 
ing they held a council while they ate their 
lunch. 

“ We can’t walk much farther,” the Master 
said, with a glance at Jack’s troubled face, already 
a little weary. “ The next station is four miles 
on. We’ll march that far and go back by rail. 
There’ll be the mile and a half, you know, to 
walk even then to the camp. The only alternative 
is for the younger boys to go back from here 
in charge of Hart, and you older boys, or some 
of you, go on with me to the next station be- 


168 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

yond; but that would be a long march for any 
of you — too long, I’m afraid.” 

“ Oh, don’t send us back, Mr. Marshall. I’m 
not a bit tired/’ one of the younger boys begged, 
and all the others were eager to go on. But 
the Master was firm. Not even for Billy could 
he risk letting any of the hoys overdo. 

It was Jack who, with a long sigh, said at last, 
“ I’m not tired, truly, and I do want to go on till 
we find — Billy. But if some of the big fellows 
can go farther with Mr. Marshall, if we go back, 

why, I’ll ” He swallowed hard, then added 

with a brave smile, “ I’ll volunteer — to go back,” 
his voice a trifle shaky on the last word. 

“ And I’ll go back with him,” added another 
of the younger boys; and then, with manifest 
reluctance, four others agreed to turn back. 

“ Thank you, boys,” the Master said. “ I know 
well that it is a sacrifice for you to go back. 
You all want to go on with us, but you are really 
doing more for Billy by turning back now than 
you could do by going on. Sidney, I will ask 
you to go back with them.” 

There was a shadow of disappointment on 
Sidney’s face, but he said only, “ Very well, sir, 
we’ll start at once,” and immediately the little 
company fell into line; but Jack, darting back, 
said to the Master, “ You’ll tell Billy, if — if you 
find him — that we wanted to go on with you, 
won’t you ? ” 

“ I surely will,” the Master answered, and a 
moment later the divided troop was marching in 
opposite directions. 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 169 

The day had grown hot and sultry, and as the 
boys walked mile after mile, the unshaded road 
seemed to stretch out endlessly before them. 
Now and then a patch of woods gave welcome 
shade, and the Master would call a halt for a 
few minutes’ rest, or for a drink from some little 
brook that went singing along over a pebbly bed. 
Once they stopped at a farmhouse, and the 
farmer’s wife emptied for them her just-filled 
cooky jar, and with the cookies brought out big 
pitchers of creamy milk ; and once they all 
stopped and, taking off shoes and stockings, 
bathed feet as well as faces in a noisy little 
stream that crossed the road. But it was a weary 
company that trudged over the last miles to the 
station, and not a trace had been found of the 
boy they were seeking. 

“ Maybe he didn’t take the road to the 
city, after all,” Wilson Harding suggested at 
last. 

“ But the city is the only place he knows,” the 
Master said. “ He surely wouldn’t wander fur- 
ther into the country. He knew the direction of 
the city.” 

“ I don’t see then why we haven’t come across 
him. He couldn’t have walked faster than we 
have,” said Frazer. 

“ Not as fast, probably,” the Master agreed. 
“ But remember he had a long start.” 

“ That’s so — but no breakfast to travel on, 
and no lunch.” 

“ No, and a heavy heart to carry besides,” said 
the Master. “ Of course there is still the chance 


170 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

that he went along the railroad — he would 
have known that that would be the shortest 
route.” 

“ Well, must we give him up then and take the 
cars back ? ” asked Wilson anxiously. 

“What else can we do? You’ve walked as 
far as you ought to in one day, and I don’t want 
the younger boys left at the camp overnight, al- 
though of course it’s safe enough.” 

“ You’ll have a pile of railroad fares to pay 
for all of us. Let me pay mine, anyhow,” Wil- 
son said, but the Master shook his head. 

“ Don’t worry over the fares,” he replied. 
“ That’s a small matter. It is the boy I’m think- 
ing of.” 

“ Isn’t that the station ? ” Miller pointed to a 
small building far ahead. 

“ I hope so,” the Master answered. “ We shall 
have an hour or more to wait for the up-train, 
but you can rest there.” 

At sunset all the boys at the camp were anx- 
iously looking for the return of the rest of the 
troop, but Jack was the first to catch a glimpse 
of the little company coming wearily up the 
road. He flew down to meet them, but his face 
clouded when he saw that Billy was not with 
them. 

“ No, Kid, we didn’t find him, but I’ve got a 
plan,” Wilson said. “ I must talk it over with 
Sid. Billy will be found to-morrow. Just keep 
quiet now till we’ve rested a bit and had some 
supper, then I’ll answer all your questions.” 

So Jack subsided, and marched in silence by 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 171 

his brother’s side, his small face very sober 
indeed. 

It was again a silent company that gathered 
about the tables a little later, for everybody was 
tired. The cooks, however, had prepared an 
extra good supper, and when it was over and the 
boys stretched out comfortably on the grass, the 
day’s search was talked over, and Wilson’s plan 
discussed. This was — that Sidney should go 
back to the city in the morning and, taking his 
father’s car with the chauffeur, should return to 
camp by the road, in the hope of meeting Billy 
somewhere on the way. It seemed the best plan, 
under the circumstances, and Sidney was eager 
to carry it out. Wilson would have gone with 
him but for Jack, and it was finally decided that 
Don Frazer should go. 

So the next day the two boys took the morn- 
ing train, and there was nothing for the re- 
mainder of the troop to do but await their re- 
turn and hope for their success. 

“ Now, boys,” the Master said, when Sidney 
and Don had been sent off with the troop call by 
way of farewell, “ I know you don’t feel like play 
this morning, but we must keep busy, so what 
do you say to doing our bit of engineering 
work?” 

“ I don’t much care what we do so long as we 
do something. I can’t stand waiting. Yesterday 
was about a hundred hours long, while we waited 
for you to get back,” one of the boys said. 

“ Well, then, we’ll get to work. It will be a 
great convenience to have our own water supply 


172 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

right here at the camp. Mr. Mason, with whose 
well Miller is acquainted, has on hand a quantity 
of piping which he is willing to sell me at a fair 
price. We can dig a channel from the spring to 
the camp and lay those pipes, and so have a sup- 
ply of good water without the daily task of bring- 
ing it in pails.” 

“ Good ! Good ! ” shouted Miller, springing to 
his feet. “ Fm for the piping. How about shov- 
els, Mr. Scout Master ? ” 

“ The lack of shovels is going to bother us 
some, but you can take the digging by turns. 
We have two shovels, and the farmer can lend 
us two more — we shall have to get on the best 
way we can with those. Now I want volunteers 
to go over to the farm for the pipes — they are 
rather heavy.” 

All the boys being volunteers, the Master sent 
the older ones for the pipes, while he, with the 
help of the others, marked out the shortest and 
easiest line from the spring. Bringing water 
twice a day from the farm or the spring had 
been the task most disliked by the boys, and they 
were all ready to do their part in this small bit of 
“ engineering.” The ditch was dug by relays of 
workers, the pipes laid, and a rough stone basin 
set to hold the water at the camp, and all was 
completed before supper time. But though they 
threw themselves into the work with enthusiasm, 
the boys did not forget Billy; and when after 
supper they gathered as usual under the sunset 
light, their talk was much of him and of Sidney’s 
return. 


A CHANGE OF PROGRAM 173 

“ Sid would get to the city before eleven 
o’clock and they could run back here in three or 
four hours,” Wilson said. 

“ Then they’ll surely be back here before dark 
— don’t you think?” Taylor inquired of the 
Scout Master. 

“ I hardly expect them so soon,” he answered. 
“ You see, they will not put on speed because 
they will want to search carefully all the way.” 

“ Oh, that’s so — of course they must go slow,” 
Taylor returned. 

“ And if they don’t find Billy anywhere on the 
road ? ” Clark asked. 

“ There is nothing we can do then but wait and 
see if he gets back to the city. I mean, keep 
some one on the lookout for him there.” 

“ And then bring him back ? ” 

“ Certainly — if he will come.” 

“Oh! Do you think he wouldn’t want to?” 
Jack cried out anxiously. 

The Scout Master shook his head and made no 
other reply. Jack slipped closer to his brother, 
resting his hand on Wilson’s knee. Jack felt 
the need of comforting to-night, for there was 
an ache in his heart. He could not help thinking 
that if he had not driven Billy away when Don 
Frazer was telling that fascinating Indian story 
— all this might not have happened. Jack felt 
that he understood Billy better than any one else 
— except perhaps the Scout Master — and he was 
right. So the Kid’s heart was heavy with re- 
morse as well as anxiety. “If only old Billy 
will come back and give me a chance to make it 


174 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

up to him ! ” Jack said to himself many times 
that day. 

Bedtime was delayed an hour in the hope that 
Sidney might come, and the Master kept the 
boys interested in the story of a winter spent by 
three men in one of the great canyons of the 
West where a deep river flings its dark waters 
over falls grander than those of Niagara — a thou- 
sand feet below the surface. These men de- 
scended into the great ravine in the fall, knowing 
that they could not possibly get out again until 
spring. It was a stirring tale of heroic adven- 
ture and endurance in the cause of science, and 
the hearts of the young listeners were thrilled 
by it. 

“ Half-past ten,” the Master announced, look- 
ing at his watch by the light of the moon just 
rising big and red. “ Now all to bed and to 
sleep in the hope of good news in the morning.” 

Reluctantly but promptly the order was 
obeyed, and soon the camp was silent. But in 
one tent, the youngest of the troop lay long 
awake, his ears strained to catch the sound of a 
big motor. Through the open door of the tent 
he could see a tall figure walking back and forth 
in the moonlight, and he knew that the Master 
too was watching and listening for the car that 
did not come. 


XIV 


A LONELY TRAMP 

W HEN Billy left the big: tent, he had 
walked slowly across to the fire- 
place where Jenkins and Finnegan 
were putting things in order for the night. 
Neither of the boys spoke to him, and after stand- 
ing about a few minutes, he wandered over to 
a group who were eagerly discussing some of 
the requirements for a First Class badge. Here 
again no one spoke to Billy, and when he asked 
a question, Taylor gave him a curt reply and 
turned his back. So presently, with a sigh, 
Billy walked away. He hovered on the edge of 
one group after another, but nobody gave him 
a welcome, and he fancied that they all looked 
at him coldly or suspiciously. 

“ I guess nobody wants me. Dey all t’ink Fm 
a t’ief yet/’ he muttered to himself. Billy’s lan- 
guage had improved wonderfully since he joined 
the Scouts, but still he often dropped back into 
the old street talk, and oftenest when he was un- 
happy. He stood for a while a lonely figure, 
leaning against a tree-trunk in the shadows, and 
looking longingly across to another group — Jack 
and his brother and Sidney Hart with their heads 
together over a sheet of paper on which the fire- 
175 


176 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

light shone. Billy longed to join them, but his 
heart was too sore to risk another rebuff. Wilson 
and Sidney had been very kind to him lately, and 
Jack — something suddenly swelled in the boy’s 
throat and choked him. He could stand it if all 
the others cold-shouldered him, but if the Kid 
should, that he couldn’t stand. And of course 
they’d told the Kid about that fountain pen of 

Barnes’ Billy stuffed his hands deep in his 

pockets and fingered something in one of them. 
He did not go over to Jack then. He slipped 
down on the ground and sat there with his back 
against the tree — thinking as he had never 
thought before; and all the time there was that 
queer ache in his heart. Billy didn’t say to him- 
self that it was in his heart, but he knew that it 
was somewhere inside him, and that it hurt worse 
even than the hungry ache he used to have when 
he went without breakfast or dinner because his 
pockets were empty. 

And then even Jack failed him. The way of it 
was this: Don Frazer had a wonderful gift as 
a story-teller, and on this evening Jack had 
coaxed him to tell a real Indian story. So 
when Don appeared, Jack slipped away from his 
brother and Sidney and snuggled down in the 
moonlight beside Don, who began a realistic tale 
of two white children captured by Indians and 
carried off, and how they were finally recovered. 
In the most thrilling part of the story, Don 
stopped abruptly and said, “ There’s somebody 
coming for you, Jack.” 

“ Oh, I can’t go yet! ” cried Jack, and without 


A LONELY TRAMP 177 

looking around he waved his hand behind him 
and called impatiently, “Do go away, please! 
I’ll come in a few minutes — soon as Don tells 
me the rest of this story.” Then to Frazer he 
added, “ Hurry and tell how they got the chil- 
dren away — before Will comes for me again.” 

“ It wasn’t Wilson — it was Billy Burns,” Don 
answered. 

“ Oh ! ” Jack cast a quick, regretful glance 
over his shoulder after Billy, who had already 
turned away — but the lure of the story was too 
strong. “ Never mind,” he said, “ I’ll s’plain 
to him after you finish. Go on, Don — please !” 

Don proceeded with the thrilling tale, but Jack 
did not give the same absorbed attention as be- 
fore. Half his mind was following Billy wander- 
ing off alone into the shadows; and the minute 
the story was ended, Jack sprang up and with a 
quick, “ Thank you, Don — that was a bully 
story,” he ran off in search of Billy. But he 
could not find him, and Jenkins finally told him 
Billy had gone to bed, and as it was against the 
rules to go into any sleeping-tent at night, except 
one’s own, Jack had to leave his explanation until 
morning. 

And Billy — when even Jack did not want him 
— had wandered forlornly around the camp, 
catching a word here and there as he passed the 
various groups; but still nobody noticed him or 
called to him, and the feeling of loneliness grew 
on him. He did not realise that he kept in the 
shadows so that few really saw who it was ; and 
it must be confessed that some who did see were 


178 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

not quite sure that Billy had not seen the missing 
pen. Even Nolan, his patrol leader, made no 
reply when Billy asked him a question, and that 
was the last straw. 

“ ’Tain’t no use — I can’t make it,” the boy told 
himself wearily ; and it was then that he crept off 
to bed. He was up again in a moment, fumbling 
in the dark about the clothes he had taken off, 
and when he got into bed a second time, he had 
a piece of red ribbon clasped tight in one hand. 
It was the bit of vivid scarlet that Jack had tied 
into his buttonhole that Saturday so long ago. 
That scrap of silk had meant to Billy more than 
he could possibly put into words. It stood for 
his “ chance ” — his friendship with the Kid — 
those first happy scouting days. 

When at last Billy slept, his stubby fingers still 
held fast the scrap of scarlet ribbon, and it was 
there when he awoke while the soft shadows of 
early dawn yet lingered over the camp. Usually 
if awake early, he would slip silently down to 
the lake for a morning wash-up; but to-day 
he stood for a moment looking out over the silent 
camp; then from a box under his cot he took 
out his old jacket and trousers and slipped them 
on. Moving very carefully so as not to awaken 
Jenkins in the next cot, he made up his bed, tuck- 
ing in the covers neatly and smoothing the pillow 
according to camp rules. Taking up his scout 
uniform he folded it with scrupulous care and 
laid it on the bed, his hat and staff beside it. 
Then for a long time he stood looking down at 
these things that he had worn with so much pride 


A LONELY TRAMP 


179 

and pleasure. Nobody knew how much it had 
meant to him — that uniform — but Billy knew; 
and in leaving it there on his cot, he felt as if 
he were leaving a part of himself — the best part. 
At last he drew a long sighing breath, swept one 
swift glance about the tent, his eyes lingering 
for a moment on Sullivan’s freckled face — he 
liked Sullivan better than any other of the Tigers 
— then he stepped silently out. 

It was growing lighter now. Soon the sun 
would be up and the camp a-stir. Billy knew he 
must not linger, but he slipped quietly over to 
the other side of the camp, to the tent where 
Jack and his brother and Sidney were sleeping. 
He knew just where the Kid’s cot stood, and 
there outside the tent he stopped for a moment, 
and on his rough, homely face there was a look 
that for the moment quite transformed it. Only 
for a moment he lingered; then there was a 
movement in the tent ; somebody stirred and 
yawned, and instantly Billy was gone — vanishing 
silently like a shadow among the trees. He knew 
the points of the compass — knew which way to 
go to reach the city, and he struck off at a steady 
pace. 

But something seemed pulling him back to the 
camp. After a few minutes his pace slackened, 
and presently he stopped and looked back over 
his shoulder. He had remembered the plans for 
a long day in the open — the chase and the treas- 
ure hunt. That treasure hunt especially had ap- 
pealed to Billy — he and Jack had talked a lot 
about the fun of a treasure hunt. Now Jack 


180 SCOU'r MASTER OF TROOP 5 

would be in it, but he would not. Anyhow, he 
could wait and see them set off — that much, at 
least, he might have. Turning, he hurried back, 
casting swift glances about till he found a great 
oak with wide-reaching branches and thick 
foliage. Into this he climbed, finding a fairly 
comfortable seat with his back against the trunk. 
No one would see him there, but peering through 
the leaves he could see the tents, though he 
was too far off to hear distinctly. By-and-bye 
he saw the slim boyish figures coming out of the 
tents and trailing down to the lake for the morn- 
ing plunge. He named them one after another 
— Miller and Clark, Frazer, Nolan and Jenkins 
and Sullivan, and then Jack and his brother, and 
behind them the Scout Master and all the others. 
Only a few minutes and the boys were back, and 
soon they were dressed and crowding about the 
fireplace, jollying the cooks and clamouring for 
breakfast. Breakfast ! Billy had not thought of 
that before. Now he realised that he too wanted 
breakfast. But he must go hungry this morning 
with a fifty-mile walk before him. He broke 
off some oak leaves and chewed them, but found 
them a poor substitute for pancakes and bacon 
and eggs. 

And there was Barnes all dressed, but not in 
uniform, and a lot of the boys crowding about 
him. Suddenly Billy saw Barnes’ hand shoot 
out and something flew through the air and into 
the group of boys, and there was a sudden 
clamour of shouts that sounded angry. Billy 
wanted dreadfully to know what it was all about. 


A LONELY TRAMP 181 

Then came the call to breakfast and a stampede 
for the big tent. 

Billy was cramped and uncomfortable, but still 
he lingered. He must see them start off on the 
treasure hunt. Maybe Jack would miss him, 
and the Master; yes, the Master. Billy's eyes 
filled as he thought of the Master who had al- 
ways been so kind. And suddenly he saw the 
Master come out of the dining-tent and hurry 
over to the one where he — Billy — had slept. The 
boy caught his breath. He would know now. 
The folded uniform and hat and staff would tell 
him what Billy had meant them to tell. The 
minutes seemed long to the boy before the Scout 
Master came out of the tent. Then all the boys 
crowded about him — they were talking over the 
chase and the treasure hunt, of course. They 
seemed in a great hurry to be off. Well, wasn’t 
that what Billy had come back for — to see the 
start? But it was not such a start as he had 
expected, after all, and they went off so soberly 
and all together, marching down the road with 
Barnes lugging his suitcase. Billy was puzzled. 
Maybe Barnes was going home, and the others 
were just going with him to the station, and 
start from there for the day’s fun. That must 
be it, he decided. 

When they were gone he slipped down from 
the tree and set off slowly in the same direction, 
but keeping in the woods which bordered the 
road all the way to the station. When he came 
in sight of the station, the train had gone, and 
he saw the khaki-clad company just disappearing 


182 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

around a turn in the road far ahead. He 
couldn’t understand it. It never occurred to him 
that the day’s plans had been set aside on his 
account, and that the troop was searching for 
him — for him — just Billy Burns whom nobody 
cared about, or wanted. So Billy trailed wearily 
along behind the troop. It grew hot as the sun 
mounted higher in the clear sky, and Billy began 
to feel that wretched aching void that he had 
been used to in the old days when he ate if he 
had money and fasted if he had none. 

He was hungry now, and his pockets were 
empty. Some bushes in a pasture near the road 
hung thick with blueberries. Billy ate as many 
as he could and then filled his pockets. But he 
found berries rather light food to travel on. He 
could not estimate the distance he walked — 
these miles of lonely country road, with only now 
and then a farmhouse, seemed to him intermina- 
ble. And there were fifty of them stretching 
out between the camp and the city! Billy’s 
feet, unaccustomed to country roads, grew weary 
quickly, and began to swell and burn. He 
trudged on doggedly, hopelessly, for what was 
there before him when the fifty long miles were 
passed? Only the streets — the old life and the 
old struggles. There was Barney — yes, but 
Barney meant also the gang, and the gang no 
longer attracted Billy. 

It was growing dark when he came to the sta- 
tion where, an hour earlier, the Scout Master 
and the boys had taken the train back to camp. 
There was no one there now. No train would 


A LONELY TRAMP 183 

be along until morning, and the agent had locked 
up and gone home. Over the crest of a hill the 
boy saw a chimney and a bit of a roof. Smoke 
was rising from the chimney — there must be 
some one there. Maybe some one who would 
give him something to stop that hungry gnawing 
in his stomach. Billy followed a little path that 
straggled across a pasture and up over the slope 
and brought him finally to the cottage whose 
chimney had invited him. As he paused doubt- 
fully at the kitchen door, a woman opened it and 
asked what he wanted. 

Billy never had begged for food, and he hesi- 
tated for a moment. Then he stammered, “ I — 
I’m hungry ” 

“ Goodness ! ” exclaimed the woman, and dis- 
appeared, but she had not refused him, and Billy 
dropped down on the step and waited. In a few 
minutes the woman came to him with a bowl of 
milk, warm and foamy, some bread and butter, 
and a big slice of gingerbread. 

“ Will that do?” she asked. 

“ Gee l ” was all Billy’s tongue could find to 
say, but his grateful eyes said much more. 

“ I never yet turned a hungry human away 
from my door and I hope I never shall,” the 
woman said, and watched with satisfaction as the 
boy ate. “ Where you from, and where you go- 
ing ? ” she asked when the bowl was empty and 
the plate nearly so. 

“ Goin’ to the city,” Billy told her. 

“ All the way afoot? ” 

Billy nodded. 


184 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Well, I reckon you’ll be some tired ’fore you 
get there. Where you going to sleep to-night ? ” 

“ Just out. It’s warm,” Billy answered. 

“ Ye-es, but— there’s our old barn over yon- 
der,” she flung out her arm to indicate it. “ It’s 
most empty, but I guess there’s enough straw in 
the loft for you to sleep on, and it’s better than 
outdoors.” 

Billy nodded his thanks. “ You’re mighty 
good to me,” he said, and went over to the 
barn. 

Stretched on the straw he was soon asleep, but 
in the middle of the night he started up suddenly, 
startled by a fearful sound above his head. As 
he listened it came again, and then he fell back 
with . a laugh. It was only an owl. Billy had 
heard one at the camp and knew the cry ; but the 
sound sent his thoughts back to the Owl Patrol 
— to Jack and the Master — and a great loneliness 
gripped him. He had never before been all alone 
like this — never in his life. When he had slept 
out in city streets there were always passers-by — 
policemen, other vagrant boys like himself; but 
here he felt miles away from every living soul, 
especially — oh, yes, especially from the Kid and 
the Scout Master. Suddenly Billy buried his 
face in his arms and sobbed all alone in the dark- 
ness. There was nobody to jeer at him — nobody 
to care. He sobbed out all his loneliness and 
heart-sickness and then he felt better, only so 
tired — tired as he never had been before in all 
his life. 

He slept again after a while and when he 


A LONELY TRAMP 185 

awoke it was broad daylight and the woman was 
standing beside him. 

“ Come, it’s most seven o’clock,” she said. 
“ I’ve got some breakfast for you before you 
go on.” 

He followed her down the ladder-like stairs 
from the loft and over to the house. There was 
a basin of water and a towel on the steps, and 
he felt better when he had washed his face and 
hands. But he was not hungry this morning. 
The coffee with thick cream looked so good, but 
the smell of it sickened him, and he ate but a 
few mouthfuls of bread. 

“ You sick? ” the woman demanded anxiously. 

“ No, only tired,” he told her. 

“ Well, I’m sorry you can’t eat. Mebbe you 
walked too far yesterday in the heat and got 
over-tired,” she answered. 

Billy nodded wearily. “ Mebbe so,” he agreed, 
and got up to go. 

“ You better walk slowly and keep in the shade 
all you can,” the woman said, and stood in the 
door watching him as he went. 

“ That boy certainly did look sick,” she said 
to herself. “ I hope it isn’t anything catching. 
He looked kind o’ pitiful, too, somehow.” 

After that the day was mostly a blank to Billy. 
He seemed to be walking, walking, on a never- 
ending road where he must walk forever with 
the hot sun always beating down upon him, the 
dust-clouds floating around him. His blistered 
feet burned like fire, and his head — something 
was wrong with his head, for it seemed to be 


186 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

swelling all the time. He was not hungry, but 
at every brook he came to he stopped to drink, 
for his throat was burning like his feet. It was 
a lonely road; all day he stumbled on, meeting 
only two or three teams. The driver of one 
called out to him, but Billy did not understand 
what he said, and only shook his head as he 
went by. 

The sun was setting when he came to a tumble- 
down cottage, long deserted. Suddenly Billy 
knew that he could go no farther, and with a 
long sigh of utter weariness he dropped down 
on the broken steps and leaned his head against 
the doorframe. It seemed quiet and peaceful 
and very restful to the tired boy. All about him 
was a mass of the pale pink flowers that the 
country people call “ bouncing-bet.” It had over- 
grown all the garden that had once been there, 
and grew waist high up to the very doorsteps. 
A little breeze blowing over it set the pink blos- 
soms nodding. To the dazed, bewildered brain 
of the boy, they seemed to be nodding and beck- 
oning to him. He reached out a shaking hand 
towards them, and then suddenly a black cloud 
blotted out the nodding blossoms and the sum- 
mer twilight, and without a sound Billy slipped 
down among the thick clustering masses of 
bloom, and lay very still, a half smile on his 
lips, as if the pink flowers that bent above his 
head were whispering kind promises in his ears. 


XV 


FOUND 

O N reaching the city Sidney and Frazer had 
found the car waiting at the station, a tel- 
egram having announced their coming. 
Mr. Hart himself was at the gate, but one glance 
at his son’s face lifted a load of anxiety from his 
heart. There was nothing wrong with his boy 
this time, he was sure. A few words made the 
situation clear to him, and his first impulse was 
one of amusement at all this fuss and anxiety 
over a boy like Billy Burns. But a moment’s 
study of Sidney’s face banished all sense of 
amusement. He saw that for some unaccount- 
able reason, Sidney was deeply interested in 
this runaway street arab and exceedingly 
anxious to find him. Besides he saw a great 
change in his son. He looked vastly better 
physically, and there was a new expression in 
his face — something alert and eager — quite dif- 
ferent from the gloom and despondency that 
had followed his accident, or the restlessness 
that had preceded it. Evidently something — the 
scouting, the camp life, or maybe the Scout 
Master — something had aroused the boy and 
shaken him out of himself. If he wanted to 
motor fifty or sixty miles over country roads 
187 


188 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


hunting for a runaway, why, let him of course. 
So Mr. Hart thought as he watched the faces 
of the two boys and listened to the story as 
they told it. 

“ Then you want to go right back ? ” he asked. 

“ Instanter ! ” returned Sidney. 

“ But there’s no such hurry as that,” his 
father answered. “ The boy couldn’t possibly 
have gotten anywhere near the city yet, walk- 
ing all the way. We’ll stop and get some dinner 
first.” 

“ We-ell,” Sidney agreed reluctantly, but con- 
ceding the wisdom of the proposal as he realised 
that he was hungry. 

So they went up to the house, which, though 
many of the rooms were closed, Mrs. Hart being 
away for the summer, was yet kept open and 
comfortable for the banker, who spent only the 
week-ends away with his wife. 

“ Say, Sid, kind of good to get into a bath- 
room again, isn’t it!” Frazer called, as he 
plunged face and hands into the marble basin, 
and then caught up a big towel. 

“ Not so good as a swim in the lake,” Sidney 
answered, as he turned on the hot water in an- 
other basin. 

But though they enjoyed the mid-day meal, 
and especially the ices that had been hastily 
ordered for their especial benefit, both boys 
were eager to be on the road, and seeing this, 
Mr. Hart would not delay them; so, soon after 
two o’clock, the car was at the door. 

“ Good-bye, father. I’ll send the car right 


FOUND 189 

back,” Sidney said, but his father laughed, and 
followed him into the car. 

“ Hope you don’t object to my company,” 
he said, “ because I intend to go along on this 
trip.” 

“ Oh, I’m glad, father,” Sidney replied so 
heartily that a quick smile flashed over his 
father’s face. 

The big car swept smoothly through the city 
and the suburbs, and was soon out on the open 
road. 

“ We’d eat up those sixty miles in no time 
if we could put on speed,” Sidney said to Don. 
“ But after we get on a bit, I suppose we must 
slow down and watch out.” 

Frazer assented. He was enjoying the swift, 
smooth motion, but he was as anxious as Sidney 
to really begin the search for Billy. 

“If he’s been walking all these two days he 
must be pretty well used up by now,” he said. 

“ Especially as he started off hungry,” added 
Sidney. 

“ I don’t quite understand why you are both 
so much interested in this runaway boy,” Mr. 
Hart said curiously. “ How about it ? ” 

It was then that he heard Billy’s story, one 
boy adding what the other omitted, until all 
was told, ending with the finding of Barnes’ 
fountain pen as he boarded the car. 

“ So ! ” Mr. Hart nodded. “ I begin to un- 
derstand. The youngster has been putting up 
a plucky fight against heavy odds, and you feel 
that he didn’t have a fair show in this pen 


190 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

business. Barnes must be something of a cad.” 

“ All of that,” Sidney agreed, “ but we’ve 
gotten rid of him — that’s one good thing.” 

Ten miles further on, the banker told Sales, 
the chauffeur, to slow down. “ Your boy might 
have gotten a ride part of the way, and so 
covered more ground,” he said to the boys. 

So the car went slowly and four pairs of 
eyes searched the roadsides for the missing boy, 
and at every one of the few houses on the road 
they stopped to make inquiries, but no one had 
seen such a boy as they described. On and on, 
mile after mile they went, until Frazer cried 
out, “ There’s the station where we stopped. 
We took the cars back to camp from there.” 

“ Then we must have missed him somehow,” 
replied Sidney, his eyes more troubled and 
anxious than ever. 

“ There’s always the possibility that he walked 
the ties — on the railroad,” Frazer reminded. 

As they stopped the car at the station, now 
closed for the night, they saw coming towards 
them a horse and buggy, with a woman driving. 

“ I suppose it’s no use asking her — nobody 
seems to have seen him,” Frazer said despond- 
ently, but Mr. Hart replied: 

“ We won’t miss any possible chance. I’ll — 
her horse is afraid of the car ! ” he added with 
a quick change of tone, and the next moment 
was out of the car, running to her assistance. 
When he had led the skittish young horse past 
the car, he stood for a few minutes talking 
with the woman. 


FOUND 


191 

“ There’s a trace of your boy at last,” he 
said when he came back. “ He slept in that 
woman’s barn last night and she gave him supper 
and offered him breakfast, but he didn’t want it. 
She thought he looked sick.” 

“ And he came down the road this way ? ” 
Sidney asked eagerly. 

“Yes. She lives up over the hill yonder. 
We must have passed him somewhere unless — 
you don’t think he could have gone back to the 
camp ? ” 

No, both boys were sure that he would not 
have gone back. 

“ Then we’ll turn back here and search care- 
fully for five or six miles. If he was sick, as 
the woman believes, he couldn’t have gone very 
far, I should think.” 

So they went back slowly, and just as the 
sun was dropping below the western hills they 
came in sight of the deserted cottage with 
its garden overgrown with bouncing-bet. The 
house stood a little way back from the road and 
there was no sign of life around it. 

“ Wonder if he could have stopped there,” 
Frazer suggested doubtfully. 

“ No harm to take a look at it,” Sidney re- 
plied, and was out of the car as he spoke. 
Brushing through the thick beds of pink and 
green, he stopped suddenly and cried out: 

“ Oh, he’s here. Come quick, father ! ” 

In a moment his father and Don were beside 
him, looking down at the quiet face with the 
pink blossoms leaning over it. Both boys stood 


192 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

silent while Mr. Hart knelt beside the still 
figure. 

“ He’s alive,” he said after a moment, “ but 
there’s something wrong with him — he’s uncon- 
scious. Sales,” he called to the chauffeur, 
“ come and help me lift him.” And Billy 
was lifted very carefully and carried to the 
car. 

“ How far back was that village where we 
saw the doctor’s sign?” Mr. Hart asked, and 
the chauffeur thought it was about ten miles. 

“ Then get over those ten miles as fast as 
you can make it,” was the order. 

The order was obeyed. The car seemed fairly 
to fly, yet the time appeared very long to the 
two boys looking down at the motionless figure 
before them. 

“ He must have been there when we came by 
before,” Frazer said in a low tone, and Sidney 
nodded silently. 

Fortunately they found the doctor in his office, 
and Billy was carried in and laid on a lounge, 
while Mr. Hart in a few words told how he 
came to be there. Again the minutes seemed 
endless to the two boys while the doctor ex- 
amined the unconscious boy and worked over 
him, but it was not really very long before 
Billy opened his eyes and stared at the faces 
about him; but there was no recognition in his 
glance even when Sidney spoke to him. 

The doctor pronounced it a case of sunstroke. 
“ It was pretty hot yesterday and hotter to-day,” 
he said, “ and this boy has been walking, you 


FOUND 


193 

say, along this sunny road in the heat without 
proper food or rest. He looks to me as if he 
had never been properly nurtured — irregular 
meals and not too many of them, I should say 
— and out in all weathers probably. That kind 
of life doesn’t give a boy the strength and power 
of endurance he needs when he gets to be about 
the age of this one — fourteen or fifteen, isn’t 
he?” 

“ About that,” Sidney answered. 

The doctor lifted Billy’s right hand. It was 
tightly closed over a bit of scarlet ribbon. 

“ Seems to be something he prizes highly,” 
remarked the doctor, and behind his broad back 
Sidney’s eyes met Frazer’s in a quick glance 
of understanding. They knew how the boy 
came by that bit of silk. But to think that it 
had meant so much to him! 

“ Do you think he is in for a fit of sickness ? ” 
Mr. Hart inquired. 

The doctor shook his head. “ No, a few days 
of rest and quiet 1 and care will probably set him 
right. I’ll give you some medicine for him. 
He will be likely to sleep all night and perhaps 
most of to-morrow, and that will be the best 
thing for him.” 

“ Then it will be all right to carry him in the 
car for an hour or two ? ” 

“Yes, if you can let him lie down.” He 
opened Billy’s mouth and gave him some medi- 
cine. “ He’ll be asleep in a few minutes,” he 
added, and almost immediately the boy’s eyes 
closed and he lay motionless as before. Then 


194 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

he was carried gently out and laid again on the 
thick rugs in the bottom of the car. 

Mr. Hart paid the doctor’s fee, slipped into 
an inner pocket the little bottle of medicine he 
had prepared, and then the car rolled away into 
the soft summer darkness — its big lights flash- 
ing through the night. It was nearly eleven 
when it flew past the little station nearest the 
camp, and the remaining mile and a half was 
passed in a few minutes. 

“ Here we are ! ” 

“ Here’s the camp ! ” the two boys cried out 
together, and the next moment the white tents 
flashed out of the darkness, and the Scout Mas- 
ter was beside the car; but the question on his 
lips was unspoken and his face whitened at 
sight of the still form stretched out on the rugs. 

Sidney spoke hastily. “ He’s asleep, Mr. 
Marshall — that’s all,” and in a few words the 
story was told. 

“ We’ll put his cot in the small tent with me,” 
the Master said, “ where Barnes was.” 

“ We’ll carry it over. — Come, Sid,” Frazer 
said, and the Master called after them: 

“ Bring the cot here — we can carry him better 
so.” 

As with careful hands they lifted Billy from 
the car and laid him on the cot, a slender little 
figure came swiftly out of the shadows, and 
cold, trembling fingers slipped into the Master’s 
hand that closed over them with a warm, re- 
assuring grasp. 

“ It’s all right, Jack. Billy is sick, but he’ll 


FOUND 195 

be all right I think in a day or two. You’d 
better run back to bed.” 

Jack turned away obediently, but the car lights 
and the voices had aroused the camp, and 
pa jama-clad boys were popping out, and eager 
questions and answers were passing from tent 
to tent. By the time Billy’s cot was placed in 
the Master’s tent, every boy in the troop was 
crowding about Sidney and Don to hear how and 
where Billy had been found. As soon, how- 
ever, as the Master had satisfied himself that 
the village doctor had been right about the boy, 
he cut short the midnight colloquy. 

“ Back to bed now, boys,” he ordered. “ You 
can hear the rest of the story in the morning; 
but now Mr. Hart and these two boys must 
have something to eat and then a chance to 
get some sleep. Breakfast will be a half-hour 
later than usual in the morning. Now, off with 
you ! ” and with a flutter of night clothing and 
a patter of bare feet, the slim forms vanished 
in the darkness of the tents. Low voices con- 
tinued to be heard at intervals for the next hour, 
from one tent and another, but the Scout Mas- 
ter was conveniently deaf to them. 

With the skill of the practised camper, the 
Master quickly kindled a fire, and soon had hot 
clam soup and biscuits, with bread and cold 
meat, ready for the newcomers. 

“ Plain camp fare,” he said. 

“And good enough for anybody,” Mr. Hart 
replied as he tasted the hot soup. “ And we are 
all hungry enough to appreciate it,” he added, 


196 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


with a glance of satisfaction as he saw that 
Sidney was rapidly emptying his bowl. 

“ And now as to sleeping arrangements,” the 
Master said when they left the table. “ If you 
don’t mind, Mr. Hart, you can have my cot 
in the little tent with Billy — he will not be likely 
to awaken for some hours yet — and your chauf- 
feur can turn in with the Panthers. They have 
one extra cot.” 

“ Sounds alarming,” the chauffeur said, “ but 
I’m sleepy enough to risk it — panthers or tigers 
whichever.” 

“ The Tigers are here all right, in another 
tent though,” laughed Frazer. 

Sidney was looking at the Scout Master and 
now he inquired, “ But where will you sleep if 
father has your cot ? ” 

“ In one of the hammocks. It won’t be the 
first time I’ve slept in one,” the Master returned. 


XVI 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 

H ALF an hour later the camp was once 
more dark and silent, but in spite of 
the broken night and the later break- 
fast hour, the boys were astir earlier than usual 
in the morning. There was a fascination about 
that big touring car that some of them found 
quite irresistible. To the Tigers it was espe- 
cially alluring, and all seven of them, with many 
of the Owls and Panthers, were crowded about 
it, admiring and examining, when its owner 
appeared. 

“ Slept like a top ! ” he said in answer to the 
Master’s inquiry. “ And the boy is sleeping 
still. Think it’s all right?” 

“Yes,” the Master assured him, “I was in 
to look at him before you awoke. He’s sleep- 
ing naturally now, and I think he will be all 
right when he awakes.” 

Sullivan, who had been under the car on a 
tour of observation and inspection, now bobbed 
up with an eager question. The red hair cropped 
close about his freckled face, his wide mouth 
and merry blue eyes, proclaimed his Irish herit- 
age. Mr. Hart looked at him curiously and 
from him to the others. Then his eyes fell on 
his son’s face, full of life and interest as he 
197 


198 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

answered Sullivan’s question about the car — 
answered it just as he would have answered 
Frazer or Harding— and Mr. Hart wondered 
and rejoiced. 

The breakfast was a merry meal, and no one 
seemed to enjoy it more than the banker. He 
asked all sorts of questions and chuckled over 
some of the answers he got to them. He lis- 
tened to discussions of plans, and when break- 
fast was over, he wrote half a dozen messages 
and told Sales to run down to the station and 
get them oil. 

“ That is,” with the papers in his hand he 
turned laughingly to the Scout Master, “ if you’ll 
let me stay here with you for a day or two? 
I seem to be taking it for granted.” 

“We shall be only too happy to have you,” 
the Master replied heartily. 

“ Well, then,” the banker turned again to the 
chauffeur, “ get these off at once.” Then meet- 
ing an imploring glance from Sullivan, he 
laughed outright. “ Of course, of course,” he 
said, “ tumble in here, as many of you as can 
get in,” and he held open the door of the car. 

Instantly the seven Tigers “ tumbled in,” but 
no sooner were they in than they were out again 
as if moved by a single spring. 

“What — what? What’s the matter?” Mr. 
Hart demanded, looking in evident bewilder- 
ment from the eager-faced boys to the Master. 

The Master smiled at the Tigers. “ I think,” 
he explained, “ it is scout courtesy, isn’t it, 
boys ? ” 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 199 

Sullivan nodded ruefully. 

“ A Scout must be courteous and kind,” Mr. 
Marshall added. “ In other words, he must re- 
member that he isn’t the only boy who would 
like to ride in a big car.” 

“ Oh, that’s it ! ” The banker’s shrewd eyes 
softened as he glanced from one longing face 
to another. “ Well,” he said, “ you can all have 
a turn — the car will be here all day, but you’ll 
have to decide for yourselves who’s to go this 
time.” 

“ Let the Tigers go first,” said Sidney. “ I’m 
sure the others will agree.” 

The others did agree, and instantly the seven 
were in the car again, their faces fairly beaming 
with delight. Sidney’s face, as he looked after 
them, was almost as bright. 

“ I guess likely none of them ever rode in a 
car before,” he said to his father. “ That’s why 
it meant so much to them, and why I wanted 
them to go first.” 

His father nodded. “ The rest of you can 
have a run when they come back,” he promised. 
Then as he walked off with the Master, he 
spoke earnestly, “ Mr. Marshall, there’s a great 
change in my boy. How do you account for 
it?” 

“ Billy is at the bottom of it,” the Master 
replied. “ I don’t know how much Sidney has 
told you about Billy, but the change in your 
son dates from the day he realised what a boy 
like Billy has to contend with, and how much 
he can help such boys.” 


200 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“Through this scout business, you mean?” 

“ Yes. Sidney seemed all at once to catch 
the idea of scout brotherhood, and I really think 
he has quite as strong a sense of brotherhood 
now with the Tigers as with his own friends 
in the other patrols.” 

Mr. Hart was silent and thoughtful, but pres- 
ently he aroused himself and began to ask ques- 
tions about the camp and camp life. 

“ Oughtn’t you to have a hospital tent ? ” he 
asked. “Of course you are liable to accidents 
or sickness, and in such cases you might need 
to keep a boy away from the others.” 

“ That is one of my plans — to have the boys 
themselves put up a small building that could 
be used in case of sickness or any emergency.” 

“ But you don’t want to put up buildings on 
somebody else’s land. Who owns this tract?” 

“ A man by the name of Marshall owns a 
hundred acres.” 

“ Marshall? Any of your family?” 

“ Yes. I’m all the family there is,” the Mas- 
ter answered with his quiet smile. 

“ Oh ! Then it’s your property, and of course 
you can do what you like with it.” Again Mr. 
Hart was silent and thoughtful. If the Scout 
Master owned one hundred acres here by Eagle 
Lake, he surely was not a poor schoolmaster, the 
banker was thinking. Then he said briskly, 
“ I spent several summers in this neighbourhood 
years ago, and I’d like to go over some of the 
old trails again.” 

“ Go on the water, do you mean ? ” 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 201 

The banker nodded. 

“ We have boats and canoes. Would you pre- 
fer to go with Sidney alone or with the whole 
troop ? ” 

“ Oh, with the troop. Those youngsters are 
so brimming with life and ‘ go ’ that they make 
me forget how long it is since I was just like 
them. I want the boys along, of course — every 
one of them.” 

“ Then we’ll arrange it. We’ve been planning 
to explore the lake.” 

The banker laughed. “ I spent days and days 
one time hunting round these shores for hidden 
treasure.” 

“ Was there ever a boy who didn’t revel in 
a hunt for hidden treasure?” 

“Why not have one — to-morrow, say? If 
things haven’t changed too much, I can find one 
of my old hunting grounds down at the other 
end of the lake, and who knows ? There may be 
treasure in it by this time.” 

The eyes of the two men met, and both 
laughed. 

“ But not too much treasure,” the Master said. 
“ A very small hoard will answer every pur- 
pose.” 

The banker’s eyes twinkled, but he made no 
promises. 

The car returned and went off with another 
load of boys, and a third trip carried the re- 
mainder. But to the Tigers it meant far more 
than to the others. Not one of them had ever 
before stepped into such a car. The nearest 


202 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

they had come to it was when they sometimes 
hung on to the step of one while they sold a 
paper to its occupant. Sidney rose immensely 
in their estimation because his father owned the 
car, and his influence over the Tigers increased 
accordingly — which is the way of the world. 

Before ten o’clock the exploring expedition 
set off. Mr. Hart went with Sidney and Frazer 
and the Harding boys in one of the boats — he 
was too heavy for a canoe, he said. The Mas- 
ter waved farewell to them all from the top of 
the bank as the little fleet set off, but he 
remained in charge of Billy. Jack, looking 
back at him, remarked sorrowfully that it 
seemed too bad to go off to explore without 
Billy. 

“ Oh, we’ll explore again another day,” Wilson 
assured him. “ And Billy won’t mind when he 
knows.” 

“ You seem to think a great deal of Billy, 
Jack,” Mr. Hart said. 

Jack’s quick smile answered before his tongue. 
“ Oh, yes. Billy’s a hero!” 

“ A hero ? What has he done to make him a 
hero? ” 

And Jack answered seriously, “ Fought him- 
self. The Master says that that’s the hardest 
kind of fighting.” 

“ I think the Master is right,” returned Mr. 
Hart, and over Jack’s yellow head, Sidney’s eyes 
and his father’s met in a glance of understand- 
ing. 

The lake was several miles long, and scattered 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 203 

over it were many small wooded islands. Part 
of the way the banks were high and rocky, with 
thick woods of pine and oak; and again green 
pastures sloped gently down to the shore. The 
little flotilla swept over the blue water, the boys 
calling across from one boat to another. Then 
somebody would begin a catchy song and all 
the others would join in the chorus, with more 
noise than harmony perhaps, but with undoubted 
enjoyment. On the first of the larger islands 
they landed and explored it, bringing back leaves 
and wild flowers as specimens. Sidney, as as- 
sistant Scout Master, was the nominal leader, 
but he assumed no authority, and was ready to 
follow any suggestion as long as things went 
smoothly. 

As they approached the lower end of the lake, 
Mr. Hart became more alert and interested in 
the rocky shore, and finally he pointed out a 
landing place. 

“ It’s noon,” he said, “ and I, for one, am 
hungry. That looks to me like a good place to 
lunch. Ought to be a spring somewhere about 
there.” 

The boys were as willing to land there as 
anywhere, and Sidney gave the order. As the 
boat he was in grated on the narrow, pebbly 
beach of the little inlet, his father scrambled 
out so hastily that he barely escaped a tumble, 
but he joined like a boy in the shout of laughter 
that went up as the water splashed over his 
feet, and he was the first to climb the bank. 
When the boys followed, he had disappeared, 


204, SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

but in a few minutes he came back, his cap 
on the back of his head, and his face flushed 
under his grey hair. 

“ I've found it,” he announced. “ I was sure 
there was a spring about here. The water’s 
clear and ice-cold.” 

“You must be a wizard to find it so quickly. 
Did you happen to pick up a hazel twig any- 
where?” Wilson laughed. 

“ No — no. I’ve — a good nose for water 
though,” Mr. Hart replied, with a tantalising 
smile which seemed to imply that he could tell 
more if he chose. “ And here’s the place for 
our fire,” he added. “ Been one here before 
from the looks of things,” and he pointed to 
some smoke-blackened stones. 

The fire was quickly started, and ears of 
young corn in the husk put down to roast. It 
was too hot for coffee, and the remainder of 
the luncheon they had brought needed no cook- 
ing. 

“If the rest of you are half as hungry as 
1 am, Marshall ought to double your board 
bills,” the banker declared, as he helped himself 
to a third sandwich. Sidney, looked at him in 
amazement as he sat there with his grey hair 
pushed up from his moist forehead, his tie 
askew, his cuffs spattered with muddy water. 
Surprising his son’s curious glance, he grinned 
cheerfully at him over the ear of corn at which 
he was nibbling. 

“ It’s all right, Sid,” he said. “ I’m off on 
vacation to-day.” 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 205 


But when the lunch was eaten, Mr. Hart 
mysteriously disappeared, and it was more than 
an hour later that he came hurrying back, his 
face redder and his cuffs blacker than Sidney 
had ever seen them before. 

“We couldn’t imagine what had become of 
you, father,” he said. “ We were almost ready 
to start a search party.” 

“ Humph ! Guess I’m old enough and big 
enough to keep track of myself,” Mr. Hart re- 
sponded gruffly, but in his eyes there was a 
twinkle that might have meant anything. 

“ Your father’s great, Sid — I never knew he 
could be so jolly,” Wilson said as they went 
down to the boats. 

“ Nor I,” Sidney answered. “ I think the 
camp or the lake or something has bewitched 
him.” 

“ Well, it’s a mighty nice kind of bewitching, 
then, and he seems to be getting no end of fun 
out of it.” 

“ So he does ; but Wilson — he’s got something 
or other up his sleeve — I know he has. I saw 
it in his eyes.” 

“ If it’s up his sleeve, how could you see 
it in his eyes?” retorted Wilson, and Sidney 
responded to that by splashing a shower of 
water over his friend as he picked up his 
oars. 

“ Going further ? ” the banker inquired, as the 
boats glided out of the little inlet. 

“ Why, I thought you wanted to explore the 
whole lake. Wasn’t that what you said?” Sid- 


206 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


ney demanded. But his father’s desire for ex- 
ploration seemed to have been fully satisfied. 

“ Why not leave the rest for another time 
when Billy is along — and the Master ? ” he asked. 
“ It’s after three, and we might stop at some 
of the islands we passed on the way down.” 

Seeing that some of the boys looked disap- 
pointed, he added, “ Fact is I’ve a little writing 
to do between now and supper-time, if I’m go- 
ing to tell you this evening the story of a treasure 
hunt I had a share in once upon a time.” 

“ A treasure hunt ! ” The words awoke the 
spirit of adventure in every boy. They pelted 
the banker with eager questions, but he laugh- 
ingly refused to answer any of them. 

“ Not now, not now. Get me back to camp, 
and I’ll spin the yarn for you after supper,” 
was all he would promise. 

At the landing, Jack tumbled hastily out of 
the boat and scampered up the bank, eager to 
learn how Billy was. The Master beckoned him 
into the little tent, and there he found Billy 
looking quite like himself, though he was still 
in bed. 

“ Oh, Billy, I’m so glad — glad! ” Jack cried, 
his blue eyes shining. “ What ever made you 
go away so ? ” 

“No questions to-day, Jack,” the Master in- 
terposed. “ Billy is back with us for good and 
that’s the end of it.” 

Billy nodded agreement. “ I don’t need to be 
stayin’ in bed, but he said I must,” he explained 
apologetically. 


AN EXPLORING EXPEDITION 207 

“ So, like a good Scout, he is obeying orders 
without argument/' the Master finished. “ I’m 
going to keep him in bed till to-morrow, and 
then I think he'll be as good as new. Had a 
good time, Jack?” 

“ Oh, splendid! If only you and Billy had 
been with us. Mr. Hart was just like a big 
boy.” 

“ So he was, Jack,” that gentleman agreed, 
as he came up with boys straggling on all sides 
of him. “ Marshall, it’s fine here — splendid for 
the boys. I dropped a score or two of years 
into the lake, and played I was no older than 
the rest of the crowd.” He turned to the cot. 
“ And Billy is himself again, I see. I don’t 
believe you remember our introduction yester- 
day, Billy?” 

Billy shook his head doubtfully, while the 
banker studied the serious face of this boy who 
had been cheated out of his boyhood. Some- 
thing in the worn, young face appealed to him; 
and besides, it was Billy who helped to work 
the great change in Sidney. 

“ I think you and I must be friends, Billy,” 
he said gently, laying his strong hand over one 
of Billy’s as it lay on the bedclothes. 

Billy said nothing, but the Master looked well 
pleased. He knew how much Mr. Hart’s friend- 
ship might mean for the boy. 


XVII 


THE PIRATE’S MAP 

F OR the next hour Mr. Hart sat by himself 
under a big tree busy with paper and 
pencil. The car — much to the regret of 
the Tigers — had gone back to town — the chauf- 
feur carrying a list of things which he was to 
bring back the next day. As the call for supper 
sounded, the banker folded his papers and 
stuffed them into his pocket. 

“ Not hungry again, father? ” Sidney asked. 
Mr. Hart laughed and his hand dropped across 
his son’s shoulder with a pressure that made 
Sidney glance up quickly into his father’s face. 
That touch indicated a new comradeship. 

A cool lake breeze springing up at sunset 
gave excuse for a campfire, and the boys gath- 
ered about it, calling upon Mr. Hart for the 
story he had promised them. Billy’s cot had been 
brought over, and he lay there in the firelight, 
happy with the Master on one side and Jack 
Harding on the other. 

The banker, his back against a tree, looked 
about at the expectant young faces and laughed. 

“ When I was a boy twelve or fourteen years 
old,” he began, “ I used to spend my vacations in 
this neighbourhood ” 


208 


THE PIRATE’S MAP 209 

“Oh, ho!” interrupted Sidney. “That’s 
how you found the spring so easily to-day ! ” 

“ Silence in the court ! ” laughed his father, 
and went on, “ There was an old fellow living 
down at the other end of the lake who had been 
a sailor, and was fond of spinning his yarns to 
youngsters like me. One day he told me that the 
captain of a pirate ship had spent his last days 
near this lake, and it was believed that he had 
buried treasure somewhere about it. I asked the 
old man if he had ever hunted for the treasure, 
and he admitted that he had many times; and 
finally one day when he was in an unusually con- 
fidential mood, he told me that he had a paper, 
found among the pirate’s effects after his 
death — a paper that the old sailor believed was 
a guide to the buried treasure. But though he 
had tried again and again to follow the directions, 
he had never succeeded in locating the treasure — 
if any there was. So at last he had given up the 
search, and he gave me the paper, wishing me 
better luck.” 

The boys were listening with breathless in- 
terest — Sidney even more eager if possible than 
the rest. He felt as if he had never really 
known his father until now. 

“And did you hunt for it, father?” he 
prompted as the banker paused. 

Mr. Hart laughed under his breath. “ Well, 
I was a boy. Do you think I hunted ? ” 

“ Yes, yes.” “ Bet you did ! ” “ Of course 
you did.” “ Any fellow would — couldn’t help 


210 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

it,” they chorused, and Jack implored eagerly: 

“ Oh, do tell us, Mr. Hart — quick ! ” 

“ Yes, I hunted. I hunted days and I hunted 
nights, by sunlight, moonlight, and lantern light. 
I worked out those old faded directions in a 
dozen different ways, and tried every last one, 
and I never got a glimpse of any hidden treas- 
ure ” — the boyish faces showed deep disappoint- 
ment — “ except — an empty box.” 

“ That had held treasure ? ” Sidney demanded. 

“ Well, you can form your own opinion. It 
was a small iron box, brown with rust, and on 
the cover, inside, was a rough drawing of a 
skull and crossbones.” 

“ The pirate sign ! ” exclaimed Nolan — a lover 
of cheap magazine pirate stories. 

“ And the box was empty ? ” asked Wilson 
Harding. 

“ Quite empty, but ” 

“ But what? But what?” cried Jack. 

“ But — I made up my mind that if any other 
boy ever tried to find that old pirate’s hoard 
he should not be utterly disappointed, and 


“What? What?” yelled a score of voices. 

“ and so,” Mr. Hart went on, “ I put a 

silver dollar into that box and buried it again.” 

“ Oh, bully ! ” shouted Sullivan. A dollar was 
a small fortune to him. “ Mebbe we can find 
it when we have our treasure hunt. Have ye 
got that paper now, Mr. Hart?” 

“ Well, no,” there was a queer expression in 
the banker’s eyes, “ no, I haven’t it — with me ; 


THE PIRATE’S MAP 211 

but I’m pretty sure I remember it, and I made 
a copy from memory before supper. Here it 
is.” He handed the paper to Sidney, and every 
head in the troop except two — the Master’s and 
Billy’s — bent over it in the light of the fire. 

“ Down where we were to-day,” said Wilson. 

“ Not so far from that spring of yours.” 
Sidney flung a suspicious glance at his father 
over the crowding heads. 

“ Not so very,” Mr. Hart agreed. 

“ The spring seems to be the starting point,” 
said Frazer. 

“ That’s why I was so anxious to find it,” 
Mr. Hart returned. “ I wasn’t sure I could — 
it’s a good many years ago, you see.” 

“ Hm-m ! ” Sidney surrendered the paper to 
Frazer and went over to Billy. 

But the other boys studied and questioned 
and planned till taps was sounded. Then before 
they separated they sang in chorus first “ Amer- 
ica ” and then Luther’s splendid battle hymn — 
“ A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” The boyish 
voices sounded very beautiful in the shadow of 
the forest and the stillness of the night, and as 
the banker listened his vision broadened, and he 
realised the immense possibilities for good — or 
evil — bound up in those young lives. And he 
understood why a man like Alan Marshall was 
willing — was glad, indeed — to give years of his 
life to the training of such boys. 


XVIII 


HIDDEN TREASURE 
SUNNY morning, clear and warm, found 



Troop 5 eager for the treasure hunt. 


To the Owls and Panthers a silver dol- 
lar meant little, but the searching for it — the 
finding it — meant a deal of fun. And Sidney 
was quite sure that that silver dollar was not 
all. He kept his opinion to himself, however, 
lest possibly he might be proved a false prophet. 
Jack was jubilant, for Billy was up and dressed 
and really seemed quite his old self, and the 
Master said he might go on the trip. The Mas- 
ter, too, was going, the camp being for once left 
to take care of itself. Bountiful supplies for 
luncheon were taken, and while it was still early 
and not too warm, the troop set off gaily from 
the landing, each patrol, one after the other, 
giving its own call, and then all uniting in the 
call of the troop. This time no stop was made 
at any of the islands, but plans were made for 
future trips to one or another of them that 
looked especially attractive. 

“ Say, father, how did you spot that inlet 
yesterday ? ” Sidney asked when they were ap- 
proaching the lower end of the lake. “ There 
are so many of them and they are so much alike.” 


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CONSULTING THE PIRATE’S MAP 










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HIDDEN TREASURE 


213 


“ Look for a headland with three big pines. 
The inlet is just beyond that/’ his father an- 
swered, and soon two or three voices sung out, 
“ There they are ! ” and a few minutes later 
they were all scrambling up the rocky bank. 
Half a dozen rough copies of the “ guide ” had 
been made by the boys, and each patrol leader 
carried one. Billy wanted that silver dollar — 
wanted it badly for a special purpose. But the 
other Tigers wanted it too, and meant to have it. 

The spring was the starting point given. 
From there the map said thirty yards due east. 
Several boys had brought along their staves — 
six feet six inches long — and with these the dis- 
tances were measured. 

“ Thence north to a big boulder under an old 
pine,” Harding read. Keen young eyes searched 
for the old pine, but there were so many, and 
so many boulders too. “ But north,” reminded 
Wilson, and there was a shout as the boys dashed 
pell-mell towards a huge old pine whose lower 
branches hung over and almost concealed a great 
moss-grown boulder. 

“ Why didn’t it say straight from the 
spring to the boulder?” fretted an impatient 
Tiger. 

“ Never you mind why,” retorted Nolan. 

“ ‘ Ours not to question why/ ” quoted Miller 
with a laugh. “ ‘ Ours but to do or die ’ — that 
is, find the next point,” and he repeated, 
“ ‘ Twelve yards southwest to spring/ ” 

“ Another spring!” said Taylor, and staves 
were quickly laid due southwest till twelve yards 


214 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

had been told off. But no sign of a spring was 
to be seen. 

“ Dry as a bone,” Miller grumbled, rubbing 
his hand over the grass. 

“ Measure it again,” suggested Frazer, and 
once more the staves were laid along the un- 
even surface. Back and forth, round and round 
the boys circled, hunting for the elusive spring. 
Mr. Hart looked on, his hands in his pockets, 
a quizzical expression in his eyes. 

“ There’s some catch about this, I’ll bet,” said 
Sidney. “ Father, did you ever find a spring 
around here ? ” 

“ It’s so long ago — I may have forgotten, you 
know,” his father answered evasively; but when 
the boys had hunted a long time in vain, he 
took Nolan’s staff, and pushing aside a green 
vine that trailed over a rocky slope revealed, 
deep down in a hollow, a tiny spring with no 
visible outlet. 

“ Well, you must have hunted for that ! ” cried 
Sidney. 

His father merely laughed and shrugged his 
shoulders. “ Scouts must have sharp eyes,” he 
retorted. 

Then — “ * east one-eighth of a mile to a run- 
ning brook,’ ” read Miller. 

“ Rather a watery route this — ought to suit 
you, Miller,” Clark observed drily. “ Let’s 
see — how many yards in one-eighth of a 
mile?” 

“ Two hundred and twenty,” replied Sidney 
promptly. 


HIDDEN TREASURE 215 

“ Thanks,” Clark returned as he watched Wil- 
son’s rapid measurements. 

“ Here ’tis — here’s the brook ! ” cried Jack, 
who had run ahead, and further measurements 
were omitted as all hurried after him. 

Mr. Hart, however, sat down in a shady place 
by the Scout Master remarking in a low tone, 
“ They’ll be back presently,” and back they came 
in a few minutes to repeat the measurements, 
and discover that there were two brooks but 
a little way apart. 

“ Scouts must be accurate,” laughed the banker 
as he loafed along behind them. 

So from point to point the boys went, follow- 
ing the directions, till with a whoop of delight 
they pounced upon the last landmark set down 
on the paper — “ A twin oak and blasted pine 
tree.” There could be no mistake about these. 
Then followed the direction, “ Search carefully 
within six yards.” 

“ Six yards which way? ” demanded Finnegan. 

“ Oh, any old way,” retorted Jenkins, and 
he began to search carefully for any place where 
the earth had been disturbed. Back and forth 
the boys went, stamping, probing, scanning every 
inch of the ground. 

“ We can’t dig it up for six yards all around,” 
said Frazer. 

“ Why not ? ” inquired Mr. Hart quietly. 

“ Oh, because — just for a dollar!” replied 
Frazer. 

“ Begorra, I’d dig it all up fer a dollar. 
Gimme a shovel ! ” and Sullivan snatched a 


216 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


shovel from the ground, and putting his foot 
on it, drove it deep into the hard earth. Mr. 
Hart smiled at the boy, but the smile faded 
into gravity as he realised how much that dollar 
meant to him. 

^ If I find it, Billy, I’ll go shares with you,” 
Jack whispered in Billy’s ear. 

Billy made no answer. He was staring up 
into the twin oaks. Jenkins, following his 
glance, suddenly pushed Finnegan up against 
the trunk, and the next instant had mounted 
on his shoulders and, catching the lowest branch, 
was up the tree in a twinkling. Billy’s face 
clouded. “ He was quicker’n me,” he muttered, 
and picking up a discarded shovel he too began 
to dig. But in a moment the Master stopped 
him. 

“ I don’t think you’d better do that to-day,” 
he said. “ It’s pretty hard work, and you are 
not really rested yet.” 

Billy looked at him wistfully, and for once 
failed to obey promptly. 

“If — if I could find that dollar!” he said in 
a low tone, and added, “ I want it fer you — 
fer what I’m owin’ ye.” 

“ There’s no hurry about that, and there’ll 
be a way soon for you to clear off that debt,” 
the Master replied, his hand on the boy’s shoul- 
der. 

Just then Sullivan dropped his shovel, and 
plunging a freckled arm into the cleft in the 
tree-trunk, nearly dropped headlong into the 
opening as the dead bark crumbled under his 


HIDDEN TREASURE 217 

thrust. The next moment, with a yell that could 
be heard for half a mile, he drew out of the 
hollow trunk a small iron box covered with 
rust. 

“Glory be! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he 
shouted, fairly dancing in his excitement, while 
his red hair shone like an aureole around his 
freckled face. 

“He has! He has! Open it! Open it!” a 
dozen voices cried as the boys crowded about 
him. With hands trembling with excitement, 
Sullivan pulled open the rusty catch, and there, 
in a corner of the little box, lay a shining silver 
dollar; and on the inside of the cover of the 
box — stained and discoloured, but still distin- 
guishable — was a rough drawing of a skull and 
crossbones. 

Sullivan drew a long breath. “ Be all the 
saints,” he ejaculated, “ I nivir ixpicted to find 
it raelly — an’ a pirate’s box too ! ” 

Jenkins, who had dropped down from the tree 
like a big beetle, gazed enviously at the lone- 
some coin. “ Mebbe ’tain’t good,” he suggested 
moodily. 

“ Let’s see that dollar a minute, Sullivan,” 
Sidney cried out suddenly. He picked up the 
coin — Sullivan keeping his eyes on it every min- 
ute — and turned it over. Then with a queer 
little laugh he handed it back. “ It’s good,” he 
said, “ no doubt about that,” and then he turned 
and winked at his father; and with a laugh that 
covered some deep feeling, his father winked 
back, and thought what a happy thing it was to 


218 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

have Sid do a boyish thing like that — after all 
that had happened. 

It was Billy who discovered a bit of dirty 
string hanging out of the opening in the old 
tree, and, pulling at it idly, drew out a chip 
tied to the end of the string. He turned it 
over wonderingly. Then his eyes brightened, 
and pushing aside with his elbows the boys 
crowding curiously about him, he went straight 
to Jack. 

“ See,” he said, “ there’s somethin’ on this,” 
and again Sid and his father exchanged glances, 
for on the chip was drawn an arrow pointing 
between the letters N and W. 

“Hurrah! Hurrah! Northwest!” the cry 
went up, and like a pack of hounds on the scent, 
the boys were off. But soon they halted. How 
far were they to go? They went back to the 
tree and started off again, eager eyes searching 
every inch of the way. 

It was Sullivan whose shrill screech drew the 
pack to him, where he stood pointing to two 
twigs placed on the ground like this ^ 

“ It’s another arrow. This way ! ” they cried, 
and again there was eager searching. 

Wilson Harding stumbled upon the next sign. 
It had evidently been drawn in the sod with a 
sharp stick or a pencil point — like this 

I t > 

“ A letter — a letter ! ” cried Wilson as much 
excited now as anybody. “ A letter three paces 
further on.” 


HIDDEN TREASURE 219 

And Miller, close at his heels, stumbled over 
a stone a minute later, and disclosed under it a 
folded bit of paper. Many eyes peering over his 
shoulder read with him the words — “ Any Scout 
who has done his one good turn to somebody 
every day this month may find the last clue on 
a white birch twenty feet from this point.” 

The boys stood still. A swift glance had 
shown them the white birch — the only one any- 
where in sight — but not a boy moved towards 
it, though many wistful eyes turned to it again, 
and lingered there. 

“ Guess I — got to go back,” muttered Billy 
under his breath, and deliberately turned his 
back on the little white birch. With a long 
sigh Jenkins followed him, and one by one the 
procession went back. 

“What’s the matter? Clue lost?” Mr. Hart 
demanded cheerfully. 

“ No, sir.” It was Wilson who answered for 
the crowd. “ But — we couldn’t fill the bill.” 
He held out the slip of paper. 

“What! Nobody who has done his one 
kindness every day ? ” the banker asked. 

Silence and embarrassed faces answered. 
Then Jack’s clear voice piped up, “ You see, Mr. 
Hart, we all always mean to do all the kind- 
nesses we can, but — we forget sometimes, and 
other times we can’t find any to do.” 

Something blurred the banker’s keen eyes 
as he met Jack’s quick bright smile, and then 
caught a glance from the Scout Master. 

Sidney, putting his arm across Jack’s shoul- 


220 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


ders, added, “ Jack has it about right for the 
rest of us, I reckon, father, but as for him, 
what he forgets is, not to do his kindnesses, but 
to count them. He has more to his credit than 
any two of us. Isn’t that so, boys?” 

“ It’s so every time ! ” Miller declared with 
emphasis, and many voices seconded him, but 
Jack’s face flushed painfully, and he drew back 
shyly behind his brother. 

“ So you give up the search ? ” Mr. Hart said. 
“ But that will never do. Jack — since evidently 
the treasure will never be found otherwise — I 
guess you’ll have to run over to that birch tree 
and tell us what you find there.” 

Jack was off like a flash, and in a moment 
he was standing by the birch waving his arms 
like a small windmill. “ Come on, come on, 
everybody!” he shouted. “Come quick!” 

As the last boy followed, Mr. Hart looked 
at the Master. 

“ How they all love him ! ” he said. 

“Jack? Yes, nobody could help it. And he 
hasn’t the least idea of his influence over 
them.” 

“ That’s the beauty of it,” the banker added. 

On the white bark of the birch the boys had 
quickly discovered Snother bit of paper held by 
a nail, and on this they read : 

“ Three silver dollars — the last of the pirate’s 
treasure, are within fifty paces of this tree.” 

Then followed a hasty pacing and an eager 
scurrying search. Martin was the first to send 
up a shout of victory as he found one dollar 


HIDDEN TREASURE 221 

hidden under a big stone. Wilson discovered 
the second, but Jack was close at his heels, and 
did not guess that his brother had first seen the 
silver gleam in the patch of blueberry bushes. 
Jack seized the coin triumphantly just as Fin- 
negan and Billy pounced at the same instant 
on the third, lying half-hidden among the roots 
of an old tree. The heads of the two boys 
came together with a resounding whack as their 
two hands clutched at the coin. It was Billy 
whose fingers closed over it, but Finnegan 
angrily declared that he had seen it first. 

“ Oh, see here — don't let’s have a fuss over 
it,” Wilson interposed, but Finnegan, red-faced 
and glowering, insisted: 

“ It’s mine an’ I’m goin’ to have it, too.” 

Billy said nothing, but stood, his mouth set 
obstinately, the coin in his tight-closed fist. 

“ I — I seen it first,” Finnegan stammered, 
“ but he was nearer the tree an’ got to it ’fore 
I could. You know I seen it first,” he repeated 
angrily, shaking his fist under Billy’s nose. 

Still Billy said nothing, but his hand and the 
dollar were both in his pocket, and there was 
no yielding in his face. Jack stood close by, 
his eyes anxious and full of pleading, fixed on 
Billy’s face, but Billy carefully avoided looking 
at Jack. 

The boys gathered about the two claimants, 
questioning and discussing the situation. Finally 
Sidney asked Billy point-blank if Finnegan did 
see the coin first. For a moment Billy made 
no answer; then as if drawn by something 


222 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

stronger than his own will, his eyes turned to 
Jack’s and lingered there a moment, and then, 
with a long sigh, Billy’s fist came out of his 
pocket, the clenched fingers opened slowly, and 
he held out his hand with the dollar lying on 
the palm — to Finnegan. With a triumphant yell 
Finnegan’s fingers snatched at the coin, and 
Billy turned away in silence. 

“ Oh! ” breathed Jack, his face all alight now, 
and as the crowd turned back, he slipped nearer 
to Billy, who had edged off from the others. 
“ Billy,” he whispered, “ you can have the dol- 
lar I found. I don’t want it — truly I don’t — 
I just liked to find it, that’s all.” 

He tried to slip the coin into Billy’s hand, 
but Billy drew away, shaking his head. 

“ No,” he said, and again his hands went into 
his pockets, but empty now. “ I — I can’t, 
Jack.” 

Then seeing the disappointment in the face 
of the Kid, he hastily explained, “Ye see I 
wanted it fer the Scout Master. I — I got to 
pay him some money; but he says I must earn 
it, so ye see I can’t take your dollar. If I’d 
found one myself, I guess that would ’a’ been 
as good as earnin’ it — that’s why.” 

“ Oh! ” Jack said again, but sorrowfully now, 
and then he added, “ Well, Billy, I’m awfully 
sorry you didn’t find one, but I’m so glad you 
gave that back to Finnegan, ’cause it belonged 
to him, you know.” 

Billy said nothing. He had won his battle, 
but the loss of the prize had been to him more 


HIDDEN TREASURE 223 

bitter than Jack — to whom a dollar meant so 
little — could possibly understand. 

“ Well,” Mr. Hart called out as the boys came 
straggling back, “ have you unearthed all the 
pirate’s hoard ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Sidney. “ Jack, Martin, and 
Finnegan were the lucky ones. Let me see that 
a minute, Kid.” He looked at the coin Jack 
handed him and then grinned at his father as 
he inquired, “ How long ago did that old pirate 
die, father?” 

“ Come, come,” exclaimed Mr. Hart, hastily 
turning to the Scout Master. “If we stay here 
answering foolish questions, we shan’t be back 
in time for supper.” 

Jack, looking at the coin as Sidney handed 
it back to him, read aloud the date — 1908 — and 
with shouts of laughter the boys trooped down 
to the boats. 

“ Was it all a fake, Sid — that story your 
father told about the old sailor and the map?” 
Wilson inquired as they went. 

“ Don’t ask me — ask him,” Sidney returned, 
but Jack put in earnestly: 

“ Oh, it couldn’t have been all made up, ’cause 
there’s the old box Sullivan found with the skull 
and crossbones on it.” 

But to the curious questions of the boys Mr. 
Hart would not reply. 

“ It was so long ago,” he protested. Maybe 
he had gotten things a little mixed, and they 
had to be content with that. 

It was nearly five o’clock when they got back 


224 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

to the camp, where they found Sales with the 
big car. Also there was something — a big some- 
thing — on the ground, covered with a heavy 
blanket. Many curious glances wandered over 
that blanket, but no questions were asked about 
it. Supper was a very merry meal, the banker’s 
sly queries and quick retorts keeping the boys 
shouting with laughter. 

Later the evening chill from the lake gave 
excuse for a fire, and the boys sat or lay about 
in the glow of the dancing flames, and the talk 
was still merry, but now and then it changed 
to graver themes. 

At last Mr. Hart exclaimed, “ Bless my soul, 
if I hadn’t forgotten all about — Sales, get 
busy ! ” he called to the chauffeur, then turned to 
the Scout Master. “ Do you think any of these 
boys could be induced to eat some ice cream?” 
he asked. 

There was a shout that must have scared the 
squirrels in the woods about, and in a second 
every boy was racing after a plate and spoon. 
Supplied with these they hurried across to the 
chauffeur, who had thrown off the big blanket, 
revealing two great tubs packed with ice and 
salt. Sales opened the freezers, and the Master 
and Sidney, with big mixing spoons, filled each 
plate as it was presented. That was a feast! 
Everybody enjoyed it, but most of all the Tigers. 
Sullivan, poking Jenkins in the ribs as they 
were disposing of their second helping, re- 
marked, with a long sigh of pure delight, “ Gee ! 
But hokey-pokey ice cream ain’t in it wid this 1 ” 


HIDDEN TREASURE 


225 


“You bet it ain’t!” Jenkins responded with 
emphasis. “ Say, Tim, ain’t ye glad yer a 
Scout ? ” 

“ Well, I should say ! I could eat ice cream 
like this till me tongue froze solid,” rejoined 
Sullivan. But even Sullivan found three help- 
ings all that he could dispose of, though his 
tongue was still unfrozen and he looked long- 
ingly into the big freezer even then. 

“ To think o’ all that bein’ left to melt ! ” he 
sighed as he turned away. “ I c’uld wish I had 
two stomachs like they say cows have.” 

“ Now, boys,” Mr. Hart said at last, “ my 
holiday is over — I must get back to business 
early in the morning, so I have to say gooo? bye 
to you all to-night — and I don’t want to say it. 
I’ve had a fine time here with you. Before I 
came out here I had thought this scouting busi- 
ness was just a new game for you youngsters,, 
and that’s all. Now I know better. I see that 
it’s a deal more than a new form of amusement. 
It’s an out-of-door workshop where boys find 
out what they are good for and learn to make 
the most of themselves. You can’t realise unti£ 
you are older how much this is going to mean 
to you, but I know that you’ll all be bigger 
men, wiser men, healthier and happier men — for 
this scout training. I’m afraid I’m hardly eligi- 
ble for membership in Troop 5, but I’m wonder- 
ing if I can’t be some sort of honorary member.” 

“ Yes ! yes ! yes ! ” cried the boys. 

“ Well, that’s what I want to be then ; and 
maybe some time — perhaps next year — I can 


226 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

run away and spend a day or two in camp with 
you again.” 

The boys crowded around him, each eager 
for a personal good-bye, and he shook hands 
with every one. Billy was the last. Mr. Hart 
held his hand a moment and looked very kindly 
into the plain face. 

“ I think, Billy, you and I must get better 
acquainted,” he said, to which, as usual, Billy 
answered nothing. 

When all the boys had disappeared Mr. Hart 
lingered a while with the Scout Master beside 
the glowing embers of the dying fire. 

“You needn’t worry over that boy — Burns,” 
he said. “ I’ll be responsible for him.” Then 
as the Master did not reply at once he added, 
“ I hope you don’t object.” 

“ I shall be glad, very glad, if only you don’t 
do too much for him, Mr. Hart. You see, with 
such boys one must be careful. It won’t do to 
make them dependent.” 

“ What would you suggest ? ” 

“ That you find him some employment for the 
time between three and six o’clock — after school 
hours — some work by which he can earn, say, 
five dollars a week. I’ve been planning when 
we go back to get him into a place I know of 
in the city — a small home it is, where a man and 
his wife have charge of a dozen or so homeless, 
self-supporting boys. It’s a good place, clean 
and pleasant, with a small reading-room and 
gymnasium, and each boy has a little room to 
himself, for which, with board, he pays two 


HIDDEN TREASURE 227 

dollars and a half a week. That would leave 
ten dollars a month for clothing and all other 
expenses, you see. It would be wealth to Billy.” 

“ I see,” Mr. Hart answered. “ I’ve no doubt 
you’re right, and I’ll find a place for him before 
you get back to the city. And,” he added ear- 
nestly, “ I realise now, Marshall, what you are 
doing for these boys — mine among the rest — 
and I want to help. If there is anything you 
want for the troop, or for any boy in it, like 
Billy — you have only to let me know, and I’ll 
do my best to get it for you.” 

The two men clasped hands, and the Scout 
Master knew that henceforth not only the Scouts 
in Troop 5, but other Boy Scouts would find a 
helpful friend in Mr. Hart. 

When the boys awoke in the morning the big 
car and its owner were gone. 


XIX 


A VACANCY IN THE TIGER PATROL 
HE August days slipped quickly by — far 



too quickly for the boys of Troop 5. 


A There were so many things they wanted 
to do! Every hour of every day was crowded 
to the limit. There was the lake carnival, the 
tournament, the Indian games, and endless other 
things, some of which had to be left until “ next 
time.” But it was the Tigers who counted the 
few remaining days with ever-growing regret, 
for the first of September meant to them ban- 
ishment from paradise — return to home condi- 
tions that now they viewed with changed eyes. 
On the last evening the Tigers managed to sit 
nearest to the Master before the campfire; and 
they were more quiet than ever before — more 
quiet even than the others. The Master under- 
stood and was not surprised when Nolan re- 
marked gravely, “You said the other night that 
us Tigers had a big chance for scout work when 
we go home. We ain’t seein’ jest how. Won’t 
you tell us ? ” 

“ I was thinking, Nolan,” the Master an- 
swered, “about the South End, where you all 
live. There’s a great deal that ought to be done 
down there. It’s a big job — a very big one for 


228 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 229 

boys to undertake, and yet I believe you could 
do something worth while there if you’d really 
set your minds to it.” 

“You mean — clean it up?” 

“ I mean clean it up,” the Master repeated. 
“ Did you know that there are six deaths down 
there to one in other parts of the city ? ” 

Nolan looked startled and thoughtful. The 
Master went on, “ Typhoid was epidemic in the 
city last year, and will probably be so again 
this season, and typhoid means — dirt !” 

Jenkins was picking at the grass, and think- 
ing of the little white coffin that had been car- 
ried out of his home last summer. Finnegan 
had like memories. Sullivan leaned forward 
and spoke earnestly: 

“How c’n we help it? We can’t clean up 
the back yards an’ alleys,” he said. 

“You don’t know what you can do till you 
try. At least you can each clean up your own 
back yard — that would be seven clean ones, and 
that might make somebody else want to do the 
same in another yard.” 

“ But the streets — they don’t c’lect ashes an’ 
garbage down our way like they do up where 
you live — not half so often.” 

“ No, and that’s a shame to the city,” the 
Master said. “ I’m going to use all my influ- 
ence this year to get that changed, and even 
there you can help. If I can show that you 
seven boys are doing all in your power to better 
conditions around your homes, the city authori- 
ties may be shamed into giving you better serv- 


230 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

ice than it does now. Boys, it is no easy task 
I am suggesting to you — I know that. But all 
the same I believe we can put it through if you 
will all do your best; but you’ll have to will 
hard and work hard, and never give in or give 
up till you win. Your 4 one kindness a day ' 
is a fine thing, but I want the Scouts of Troop 5 
to be willing to do much more than that.” 

All the boys were listening, their faces earnest 
and intent. The Scout Master’s glance fell on 
the flag that had been lowered at sunset. He 
pointed to it. 

“ You would think it a fine thing if there 
were war, to fight for your flag — for your 
country — even perhaps to die for it. Isn’t it 
better to live for it — to spend your life trying 
to make your city better — the people in it bet- 
ter? You boys in the South End have a 
glorious chance, you see, to live for your 
country.” 

Billy’s eyes, grave and earnest, turned from 
the flag to the face of the Master, and new 
thoughts, big and beautiful, began to grow in 
Billy’s mind. 

“ It is a splendid thing to give your life for 
your country, but remember you don’t have to 
go to war to do that,” the Master said, and a 
little silence ended the talk. 

The first day of September the tents were 
taken down and packed away in the loft of the 
farmer’s big barn, there to remain until the 
next summer. The water pipes had been dis- 
connected to prevent freezing, and nothing was 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 231 

left but the fireplace with its rough shelter, and 
the empty supply closet. 

It looked so lonely that the boys were ready 
to leave, yet as they formed in line to march 
to the station, more than one pair of eyes looked 
back, and more than one boy wondered if he 
would come back the next summer. Some of 
them were conscious that they had grown — not 
perhaps in inches, but in other ways — during 
these weeks of camp life. They knew it be- 
cause of the new plans and purposes they were 
beginning to consider. It was Sullivan — merry, 
light-hearted Sullivan — who ran back and broke 
off a branch of Balsam fir. He came back with 
a very sober face, remarking as he fell into step 
with the others: 

“ I’ll keep this much annyhow. Mebbe I’ll 
not be cornin’ agin next summer.” 

“ Of course you’ll come again — every last one 
of us will,” replied Nolan decidedly, “ and the 
Tigers thereupon fell to planning how they might 
earn enough “ extra ” in the next eleven months 
to pay for another month at the camp. 

For Billy a new life began the next day, for 
Mr. Hart had not forgotten his promise, and 
he had secured for the boy a position as special 
delivery messenger for a big firm, and had 
arranged that his working hours should be from 
three-thirty to six-thirty, and half a day on 
Saturdays. A second-hand bicycle had been 
provided for him, and Billy could hardly believe 
his good fortune when he learned that he was 
to receive five dollars a week, and in addition 


232 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

was to live at the Selden Home, with a clean 
little room to himself, and all the privileges of 
the place. Billy felt that with a home like this 
— and the Scouts, with the Master and the 
Kid for his friends, life had little more to 
offer. 

The day after their return from the camp the 
seven Tigers came together for a conference. 
Billy could not be with them, as he was at work. 
Nolan and Jenkins lived in the same house, a 
small frame where there were four families. 

“We got to begin somewhere — might’s well 
be your yard as any,” Finnegan had said; so 
the seven boys were looking over the ground. 
It was a disheartening undertaking, the cleaning 
up of even that one yard, for it held a small 
mountain of tin cans, broken crockery, ashes, 
and refuse. 

“ It’ll take us a month to do jes’ this one,” 
Jenkins said dolefully, “with the little time we 
get.” 

All the boys did work of some sort in the 
afternoon, most of them having paper routes. 

“ An’ it’ll cut out all the fun — ball games an’ 
movin’ pictures, an’ all,” added Sullivan. 

“Well, what of it? We ain’t quitters, are 
we? An’ we’ve promised the Scout Master ter 
do our best down here. If it takes two months 
we gotter do it, ain’t we?” demanded Nolan. 

“ S’pose so,” agreed Jenkins, “ but I guess if 
them Owls an’ Panthers had a job like this 
they’d find out what hard work is.” 

“ Well,” said Nolan briskly, “ sooner we get 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 233 

about it, sooner it’ll be done. Shall we start in 
ter-night ? ” 

It was agreed that they should. 

“ But say,” demanded Finnegan, “ however’ll 
we be carryin’ off this stuff? The’s cartloads 
of it. An’ where’ll we be dumpin’ it at ? ” 

“ It’s blockheads we are not to be askin’ them 
questions before,” said Nolan. 

“ There’s Hogan’s wheelbarrow — wouldn’t he 
be givin’ us the loan of it, d’ye think ? ” queried 
Sullivan. 

“ He might — we c’n try,” replied Nolan. 
“ An’ as to a dumpin’ place — the’ ain’t none 
nearer than the lots over by the river.” 

There were eager protests and objections from 
the others. 

“ It’s too far over there.” 

“ We never can lug all this stuff that far.” 

“ It’ll take us forever.” 

“ Well, where else can we dump ? ” demanded 
Nolan. “ It’s no good to clean the stuff out o’ 
here an’ pitch it inter the alley.” 

“ True enough — it ain’t,” assented Finnegan 
gloomily. 

“ Truth is — I’m thinkin’ the job’s too big fer 
us,” put in Dunn. 

“ Come now,” said Sullivan, straightening up 
suddenly, “ don’t let’s give up before we begin, 
annyhow. I say, let’s make a start an’ see what 
we c’n do. I’d be ’shamed ter let ’em all know 
we backed out before we begun.” 

“ An’ that’s a true word — so would I,” agreed 
Nolan heartily. “All right then — you all be 


234 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

here after supper an’ I’ll do me best ter persuade 
Hogan ter give us the loan of his barrow.” 

When they came together after supper, Billy 
was with them, and evidently Hogan had been 
persuaded, for the barrow was there — also a 
couple of shovels borrowed from other neigh- 
bours, and the eight boys set to work with a 
will. They laboured under a hot fire of criti- 
cism from their elders in the house, and of 
question and comment from all the younger boys 
and girls who could find room to stand or sit 
on the rickety fences on either side. But they 
worked on grimly, ignoring question and com- 
ment. It was astonishing — and likewise dis- 
couraging- — to see how small a hole a barrow 
load made in the huge pile that had been accumu- 
lating for years in that back yard. 

Load after load the boys dug up, shovelled 
into the wheelbarrow, and carried off. And it 
took so long to wheel a load over to the river! 
But they worked on steadily until it was too dark 
to see. Then they returned the borrowed 
shovels and barrow, and were glad enough and 
tired enough to go straight to bed. 

But the next morning early, the shrill call of 
Jenkins aroused the other Tigers, and summoned 
them hastily to the scene of their labours, where 
they found Nolan, red and angry, standing in 
the yard. 

“ Look at that ! ” he cried out, and as they 
looked the faces of the others reflected the angry 
dismay of Nolan’s. 

All their labour had gone for naught! For 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 235 

every tin can they had carted off two at least 
had been flung into the yard in the night. 

“ IPs the alley gang — that’s who done it,” 
Nolan cried. 

“ An’ I say it’s a shame — after all our hard 
work!” said Jenkins. 

“ Wasn’t I tellin’ ye ’twas no use? ” his mother 
put in from the doorway. “ Better leave things 
as they be. It’s no good tryin’ ter change 
em. 

But this pessimistic counsel had the contrary 
effect from that intended. 

“ We ain’t goin’ ter leave things as they be,” 
Jenkins retorted. “ That alley gang can’t boss 
us Tigers — can it, fellers? They must ’a’ 
worked like blazes to pitch all this stuff in 
here last night, an’ they’ll soon get sick o’ that.” 

“ An’ I’ll hunt up Barney Doyle an’ see if he’s 
goin’ ter stand fer this,” added Nolan. Then 
he faced the others. “What d’ye say? Do 
we give up an’ let that gang beat us?” 

“ No, we don’t ! ” was the unanimous response. 

“ We’ll be back an’ clear out this truck ter- 
night,” added Finnegan. 

“ Hope they won’t keep us workin’ in this 
yard all winter,” added Dunn gloomily. 

“ They won’t ! ” Nolan retorted with sharp 
emphasis. 

And if the boys had worked hard the night 
before, on this night they laboured like young 
giants, with a fury of determination to prove 
that they could accomplish something even in 
the face of such obstacles. Back and forth the 


236 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


wheelbarrow went with load after load, and 
before they stopped work the boys had made 
better progress than they had believed possible 
in so short a time. The late moon was just 
rising as Finnegan came back with the empty 
barrow after the final trip to the dumping 
ground. The boys rubbed their aching backs 
and shoulders as they looked about them. 

“ We’ve got a heap done ter-night,” Sullivan 
said. 

“ An’ mebbe we’ll have it all ter do over ter- 
morrow,” grumbled Dunn. 

“ Aw, don’t be croakin’ ! ” retorted Sullivan 
impatiently, and Nolan added, “ It’ll be lighter 
ter-night, an’ Jenkins an’ me’ll be a-watchin’. 
If any of the gang comes around we’ll sure 
make it hot fer ’em.” 

Nolan’s yard was not disturbed that night, nor 
on the nights that followed, but it required con- 
stant watchfulness and care on the part of the 
two boys to prevent the people in the house from 
throwing things into it as they had always done. 
Jenkins’ mother frequently assured her neigh- 
bours that the boy was the plague of her life 
“ since he took up wid them quare notions.” 
’Twas the scout business was at the bottom of 
it all, she declared. But in her heart she was 
proud of her boy, and of his “ quare notions ” 
of cleanliness, and Mrs. Nolan was equally proud 
of her son. 

Sullivan’s yard was one of the smallest, but 
if possible it was in worse condition than the 
others. Back of it was Goat Alley — a very 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 237 

plague spot with its open drain filtering through 
the middle, and its tumbledown shacks, wholly 
unfit for human habitation. Many babies were 
born in Goat Alley, but few of them lived 
through a single year. 

“ This is the worst yet,” Nolan exclaimed, as 
the boys stood looking about the foul-smelling 
place. 

“ An’ that’s a true word ! ” agreed Dunn. 

“ Well, pitch in ! It won’t grow no better 
while we wait,” and Nolan picked up a shovel 
and set to with a will. 

Five evenings the boys worked here, bad- 
gered and tormented all the while by the hood- 
lums of the alley, who tossed over the fence 
everything from tin cans to dead cats. It was 
useless to argue with them. Coaxing and 
threats were alike disregarded. When on Fri- 
day night the Tigers found a fresh lot of trash 
thrown over since they left the night before, 
they gave it up in despair. 

“ It’s no use,” Sullivan said, dropping wearily 
down on the doorstep. “ We’re too near the 
alley. They’ll never let up on us.” He looked 
very tired — all his light-hearted energy and, joy 
in a fracas gone. 

Nolan looked at him, and then again at the 
yard. “ I hate ter give up beat,” he muttered. 

“ We won’t,” said Billy, “ but I’m thinkin’ we 
got ter have help here. Mebbe the Master can 
tell us what ter do ’bout them,” he nodded 
towards the alley where a noisy quarrel was 
going on. 


238 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Well,” Nolan hesitated, “ we can ask him 
ter-morrow night, I s’pose.” 

So the next evening, when the Master called 
for a report from the Tigers, Nolan answered 
in a discouraged tone, “ Seem’s like we can’t 
make it. Some of us thinks we’ve got ter give 
it up.” 

“ Tell us all about it, Nolan,” the Master said, 
and Nolan went on: 

“ I told ye before how we begun cleanin’ up 
our own yards, as you said, but ye see where 
there’s three er four fam’lies has the one yard 
— one of ’em jest can’t keep it clean if the rest 
won’t help none. We begun with ours — where 
me’n Jenkins live — an’ we cleaned it up fine. All 
of us pitched in an’ worked together, an’ I tell 
ye ’twas a job to clean out all them tin cans 
an’ ashes an’ ev’rything. An’ the gang found 
out what we was doin’ an’ they brought a whole 
lot of stuff an’ filled the yard with it in the 
night. An’ they’ve done that in every yard we’ve 
cleaned.” 

“ Too bad, too bad ! ” the Master said. 
“ We’ve got to break up that gang. It must 
be done.” 

The boys shook their heads. “Ye can’t never 
break up Barney Doyle’s gang,” they declared 
one and all. Only Billy was silent. 

“ Have any of you seen Barney ? ” the Master 
inquired. 

Yes, the boys had all seen him. He was 
“ always round,” they said, when there was any- 
thing going on. 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 239 

“And have you had any talk with him or 
others of the gang about what you are trying 
to do?” 

“ Ye-es,” Nolan stammered, and the Master 
could well imagine that the “ talk ” had not been 
of the friendliest on either side. 

He considered the matter in silence; at last 
he turned to Billy. 

“ Could you persuade Barney to come and 
see me again ? ” 

But Billy shook his head. “ He won’t come,” 
he said. “ He’s mad at me, Barney is.” 

“ He’s down on us all,” Finnegan added, “ an’ 
so’s all the gang. ’Tain’t no use tryin’ no more, 
Mr. Marshall.” 

“ No,” they all agreed, “ ’tain’t no use.” All 
but Billy — he said nothing. 

The Master turned to him again. “ What do 
you think about it, Billy?” 

“ I — dunno.” Billy’s response was slow and 
doubtful. 

“ Do you think we’ll have to give it up ? ” 
the Master persisted, and Billy answered very 
quietly, “ I ain’t givin’ up — yet.” 

The Master’s rare smile flashed out then and 
his eyes were very kind as they met Billy’s sober 
blue ones. Well he knew that Billy no longer 
“ believed in giving up.” Already he had paid 
back that five dollars to the Master, and put 
two more in the bank — thus fulfilling the last 
requirement for a First Class scouting badge. 
Settled for the first time in his life in a com- 
fortable home and earning a steady income, 


240 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


Billy’s self-respect was growing, and he was 
developing in a way that gladdened the Master’s 
heart. 

“ I’m with you, Billy. I don’t believe in giving 
up either,” he said. Then to the others, “ But I 
see that you can’t accomplish much while this 
gang is working against you. I must think over 
it and see what can be done. By the way, 
where’s Sullivan? Why didn’t he come with 
you to-night ? ” 

“ Sullivan’s sick. He’s got the fever,” Nolan 
said. 

“ Typhoid?” 

“Yes. It’s worse’n ever this year.” 

The Master knew that — knew that it was 
epidemic again in the city and that the health 
officer was greatly disturbed over the situation. 
He inquired about Sullivan — how long he had 
been sick, his home conditions, etc. 

“ I shall go down and see him to-morrow,” 
he promised, and meantime, while you can’t do 
what you have been planning to do, here’s a 
chance for some good scout service. You can 
do much to make it easier and pleasanter for 
Sullivan while he is sick, and to help his 
mother and sisters. Keep your eyes open, boys, 
and you’ll discover opportunities for many 
‘ kindnesses ’ — for typhoid means a long sick- 
ness.” 

When the boys were leaving, the Master de- 
tained Billy to say, “If there is any possible 
way you can manage to get Barney here, you’ll 
do it, Billy, I know.” 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 241 

“ Sure I will,” the boy answered, “ but I 
reckon he won’t come no more.” 

And Barney did not come. The Master vis- 
ited Sullivan, and kept him supplied with the 
purest milk obtainable, and everything else the 
doctor would allow. But the boy was very ill, 
and day by day the chances of his recovery 
lessened. 

The Tigers were faithful — one or another of 
them was always about out of school hours 
or after work, ready for any errand or other 
service needed. Mr. Hart, learning through 
Sidney of Sullivan’s illness, was ready also to 
supply anything wanted, but the boy needed 
very little now. Steadily he grew weaker until 
the day came when there was black on the door, 
and the boys knew that one of their number 
would be with them no more. They were very 
serious over it, for this death came close to them. 
Sullivan, with his rough, red hair and freckled 
face, his wide mouth so ready to laugh, his 
quick temper and quicker tongue — why, it didn’t 
seem possible that Sullivan was dead! To Billy 
it came as a stunning blow. Billy’s heart, 
opened first only to the Kid and the Scout 
Master — and in a way to Barney — had lately 
begun to open to others. To him more perhaps 
than to any other boy in the troop, except the 
Kid, had come lately a realisation of that word 
of his new creed, “ All Scouts are brothers.” 
But he did not really know until Sullivan died 
how much he had begun to care for these seven 
boys with whom he had been working. He 


242 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

knew now, and he looked with changed eyes 
on the six who were left; and they, feeling the 
difference in him, without understanding it, be- 
gan to count Billy “one o’ the right sort/' 

Sullivan was dressed for the last time, in 
his scout uniform — he had wanted it to be so — 
and his comrades marched behind his coffin, 
the yellow and black of the patrol banner making 
a spot of vivid colour. The boys now could not 
look at that banner without remembering how 
proud Sullivan had been of it. To become some 
time the patrol leader and be privileged to carry 
the banner had been his great ambition. The 
Scouts marched with downcast eyes, remember- 
ing now only the cheerfulness, the merry wit, 
and the ready kindness of the one who would 
march with them no more. 

The first keenness of their feeling wore off 
in a little while, but they did not forget Sullivan. 

The black bands on the sleeves of their scout 
uniforms were for a time a continual reminder 
that their ranks had been broken. But natu- 
rally it meant more to the Tigers than to the 
others of the troop. How much it had meant 
the Master did not fully realise until one Satur- 
day evening when the boys all gathered in his 
room for the “ Campfire talk.” The seven 
Tigers were there, and in their faces the Master 
saw the evidence of a new energy and determi- 
nation. The boyishness was changing into man- 
liness, and manliness of a good kind too. Usu- 
ally in these gatherings the Tigers were the 
listeners — the Owls and Panthers taking the 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 243 

lead. But on this night the Tigers seemed 
quite to have forgotten the others, so absorbed 
were they in their own ideas and plans. And 
the others were very quiet, listening intently 
but never interrupting. As usual Nolan spoke 
mostly for the seven, the others putting in a 
word now and then by way of explanation or 
confirmation. 

“Ye see,” Nolan said, “it’s this way, Mr. 
Marshall. The health officer says Sullivan, an’ 
all them others that’s got the fever now, got 
it ’cause our ward ain’t ever cleaned up as it 
ought ter be — jest as you said. Goat Alley, back 
o’ where the Sullivans live, is the worst of all — 
a reg’lar sink-hole ’tis — where they dump every- 
thing. We tried to clean it up, but ’twas too 
big a job fer us an’ ” — he choked over the next 
words — “ an’ the health officer, he said ” — an- 
other pause — “ that stirrin’ it up the way we 
did made it worse — fer — Sullivan. There’s six 
cases of fever in that alley now. An’ Sullivan, 
he — seems like he ” — Nolan stumbled on — “ Mr. 
Marshall, you said ’twas jest as brave to die fer 
your city at home as ’twas to die fer your, 
country in battle, didn’t ye?” 

The Master nodded. Nolan quite uncon- 
sciously wiped his eyes on his sleeve as he went 
on in an earnest voice, “ Well, that’s it. We 
feel like Sullivan had give his life fer his city, 
an’ now — we want to make it count fer some- 
thing — see ? ” 

“Count how, Nolan? In what way?” 

“ We want ter finish up good an’ thorough the 


244 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


job we — an’ him — started, an’ dropped,” Nolan 
explained. 

The Master’s heart swelled with pride in these 
boys of his. “ I don’t know how it is going 
to be done, boys,” he answered, “ but I believe 
you will do it — that you will make the South 
End a clean and healthy place to live in, and 
if you do that, Sullivan’s death will not have 
been in vain. What are you planning now ? ” 

“ We’re goin’ fer Barney first,” said Nolan. 
“ If we can get him mebbe we c’n get the rest 
of the gang — some of ’em anyhow.” 

“ Get the gang! How do you mean, Nolan? ” 

“ Why, to join the Scouts of course.” Nolan’s 
tone expressed surprise at the question. “ The 
scoutin’s done a heap fer us — all of us — we 
know it, don’t we, fellers ? ” 

There was emphatic assent, and Nolan turned 
again to the Master. ‘'Ye see,” he admitted, “ we 
didn’t want any of the gang in the Scouts before, 
but now we do. If we can get them toughs 
into a troop mebbe they’ll find out there’s better 
things to be doin’ than the things they’re up to 
all the time.” 

“ Do you think you can persuade them to 
join the Scouts?” the Master asked, and Nolan 
answered doggedly: 

“ Well — one way er another. Mebbe we 
won’t always remember the ‘ courteous ’ busi- 
ness, but, Mr. Marshall, somehow or other we’ve 
got to break up that gang and clean up the 
South End, and we're a-goiri to do it. You 
can bet yer life on that ! ” and like a deep and 


VACANCY IN TIGER PATROL 245 


earnest refrain several other voices echoed, 
“ You can bet yer life on that! ” 

That night it was the other boys of the troop 
who lingered, after the Tigers had gone. 

“ Do you believe they can really do it, Mr. 
Marshall ? ” Sidney Hart asked. 

“ On the face of it I should say ‘ no,’ ” the 
Master replied, “ but, boys, I’ve found out that 
when any body of men — few or many-^are 
possessed with a deep determination to right a 
wrong, they usually accomplish it no matter 
what obstacles stand in the way. And you see 
how it is with those boys. Sullivan’s death 
coming just as it did, has had a peculiar effect 
upon them. Those are not the same boys that 
went out to Eagle Lake with us last August. 
You see the change in them?” 

“ Oh, yes,” two or three voices answered 
quickly. 

“ Nobody could help seeing it.” 

“ Yes, they’re different, and they’re in dead 
earnest,” Sidney agreed, “ but father says the 
South End is controlled by some of the worst 
politicians in the city. I don’t see, Mr. Mar- 
shall, how seven boys can do anything against 
a crowd like that.” 

“ Neither do I see how , but I’m beginning to 
believe nevertheless that it will be accomplished 
somehow.” 

“ It will be something gained if they can only 
break up that gang,” remarked Frazer. 

“ And besides,” Jack’s earnest voice broke in, 
“ besides, you know it isn’t only seven boys — it’s 


246 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


twenty-three, for ‘ all Scouts are brothers/ and 
brothers have to help brothers, don’t they ? ” 

There was a quick interchange of glances, 
and Wilson’s hand fell across the Kid’s shoulder. 
“ Jack’s right,” he said. “ We’ve all got to 
stand by the Tigers in this fight, haven’t we?” 

Only Aleck Kenny — the boy who had taken 
Barnes’ place in the Panthers — looked doubtful. 
He had not yet gotten into the real spirit of 
scout brotherhood — there were few troops in 
which that spirit was as strong as it was now 
in Troop 5 — and he was inclined to hold off. 
But all the others left the Master’s room that 
night pledged to him and to themselves to do 
their utmost to help the Tigers in their big 
task. 


XX 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 

4S the weeks passed the Scout Master was 
/-% amazed at the persistence of the Tigers. 

All sorts of obstacles hindered them, not 
the least being the indifference of the people 
themselves to the danger and discomfort of their 
surroundings. They had always lived under sim- 
ilar conditions and they dreaded changes. 
“ Mebbe we’d be worse off in the end than we be 
now,” they answered to all arguments. And the 
city authorities continued persistently to ignore 
all attempts made by Alan Marshall and others 
for the improvement of conditions in the South 
End. 

It might be cleaned up, but the folks down 
there wouldn’t keep it clean a week — they rev- 
elled in dirt down there, it was said. The urgent 
recommendations of the health officer were dis- 
regarded. Some “ power behind ” continued to 
prevent action, and things went on as before in 
the South End ; and meanwhile the “ gang ” 
waxed stronger and more audacious — but still 
the Tigers did not give up. 

“ I wonder you are not completely discour- 
aged,” the Master said to them one evening, 
when the seven alone were with him. 


247 


248 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ I reckon we would be only for him — he won’t 
let us,” Nolan said, indicating Billy by a nod. 

So it was Billy, the quietest one of all the 
seven, who was, after all, the strongest force 
among them. Nolan grinned, reading aright the 
surprise in the Master’s face. 

“ Oh, Billy’s mighty still,” he said, “ he ain’t 
talkin’ much ; but once he gets a grip he holds on 
like a bulldog. Billy never lets up.” 

But the fever did not let up, either. It swept 
the South End, claiming fresh victims every day. 
Some lingered through long weeks of illness, and 
then crept slowly back to health; but very many 
slipped away as Sullivan had done; and the 
black wagon of the undertaker was ever rattling 
through the streets. There came a night when 
Nolan reported that Mack Keefe — one of Bar- 
ney’s gang — was down with the fever. Nolan 
was greatly excited over it. 

“ Mack lives in Goat Alley,” he explained. 
“ You know there’s been more fever there than 
anywhere else; but I never thought of Mack’s 
gettin’ it — a big husky like him. They say he’s 
got it bad, too.” 

“ This is another chance for scout service, No- 
lan,” the Master reminded him, and Nolan 
nodded assent. 

“ That’s what Billy was sayin’ last night,” he 
added. “ He said we’d all got to pitch in an’ 
help.” 

“ He’s helping, of course? ” 

“ Oh — he ! He’s payin’ fer Keefe’s milk — a 
quart a day of the best. Milk’s all he can take. 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 249 

An’ Billy’s goin’ down there ev’ry night after 
supper to help take care of him. Ye see, Billy 
knows Mack ’cause he used ter belong ter the 
gang— Billy.” 

“ Yes, and we must all help, too,” the Master 
said. “ I’ll go down to-morrow, Nolan, and you 
can show me where to find Keefe.” 

In one of the worst of the miserable dwellings 
in the alley the Master found Keefe, a big over- 
grown boy of fifteen, with a heavy coarse face, 
and eyes now full of a dumb dread and terror, 
like those of a trapped animal. The room where 
he lay was bare and comfortless and the kitchen 
from which it opened, dark and dirty. An old 
woman puttering about the kitchen, the Master 
knew must be Keefe’s grandmother, the only 
relative he had except an older brother who 
was a sailor and away from home. 

The boy would not talk, but the grandmother 
was voluble, whining over their poverty and 
hard times. She bristled into anger, however, 
when the Master suggested that the sick boy be 
taken to a hospital. “ He would be so much 
more comfortable than he can be here. There 
would be nurses to care for him and doctors, 
and he would be in a big airy room,” the Master 
urged. 

But the old woman cried out, “ No, no, no ! 
He shan’t go — I’ll take care of him here. You 
don’t want to go to a hospittle, do ye now, 
Mackie ? ” she appealed eagerly to the boy. 

He shook his head wearily. “ I’m stayin’ 
here,” he muttered, and seeing that they would 


250 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

not be persuaded, the Master could only try to 
make the boy as comfortable as possible where 
he was. 

“ I’ll send down a softer bed — this one can’t 
be easy to lie on,” he said, with a glance at the 
humpy straw-filled bed and its dirty coverings. 
“ And if there’s anything you want, I’ll be glad 
to get it for you. Is there anything, Mack ? ” 

Again the boy shook his head, but always with 
that look of dumb terror in his bloodshot eyes. 

A comfortable bed with a supply of clean bed- 
ding was sent down the next day, and a doctor 
and district nurse engaged. But nothing could 
save Mack. Day after day the fever burned in 
his veins and his strong young life fought against 
it in vain. In three weeks the soul of Mack 
Keefe passed out into the Unknown. 

The Master was alone in his rooms the even- 
ing after Mack’s burial when Barney Doyle 
knocked at his door — not the old Barney. All 
the swagger and defiance were gone out of him. 
He nodded silently as he entered and, dropping 
into a chair, sat for several minutes staring into 
the fire. The Master waited until with a long 
weary breath, Barney stirred restlessly, then he 
said quietly, “ What is the trouble, Barney?” 

“ It’s — it’s Mack Keefe — an’ all,” muttered the 
boy, looking up with miserable eyes to the kind 
face of the Master. And then, the ice once 
broken, he poured out his trouble as if he could 
keep it to himself no longer. “ I seen him most 
every day while he was sick, but he never said 
nothin’ till the last time. Then,” a shudder shook 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 251 

the boy and his face whitened, “ he said — he said, 
’twas my fault ” 

“Your fault that he was what he was?” the 
Master prompted gently. 

Barney nodded. 

“ How long had you known him, Barney? ” 

“ I dunno — mebbe t’ree, four years.” 

“ And what kind of a boy was he then — at 
first?” 

“ I dun — no,” Barney hesitated ; then added 
with an evident effort to answer honestly, “ I 
guess he's worser since I knew him.” 

“ Haven’t all the gang grown worse in the 
past three or four years ? ” 

“ Mebbe so,” Barney admitted. “ I guess — 
fellers does grow worse — mostly — don’t they?” 
he asked, and in his eyes and in his rough voice 
there was a wistful pleading. 

“If they don’t grow better — yes,” the Master 
replied. “ But how about Billy ? Do you think 
he has grown worse since you sent him to me ? ” 

“ No,” the answer was prompt. “ Billy’s doin’ 
fine ; but he was different — Billy was. He only 
run with de gang ’cause he liked me. The rest 
of ’em, they was in it ’cause they liked the fun 
an’ the rough house an’ all.” 

“ Why have you come to me to-night, Bar- 
ney ? ” Alan Marshall asked suddenly. 

Again a shudder passed over the boy and his 
eyes showed the torture of his soul as he an- 
swered, “ ’Twas Mack. I — I seen him, I told 
yer — the last night. He — he was ’ fraid ter die, 
an’ he wasn’t never scared before — Mack wasn’t. 


252 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


An’ he said I’d made him bad — an’ that’s why.” 

“ I see.” The Master laid a friendly hand for 
a moment on Barney’s. “ And you’ve made up 
your mind that no other boy shall have reason 
to say a thing like that to you when he comes to 
die. Isn’t that it, Barney?” 

“ Yes, that’s right. I can’t carry a load like 
that,” the boy answered solemnly. 

“ None of us can, Barney. So you are going 
to quit the gang at once ? ” 

“ I’ve quit a-ready.” 

“ Will somebody else take your place or will 
the gang drop to pieces ? ” 

“ I told ’em all last night it was a-goin’ to 
break up. I told ’em what Mack said, an’ that 
I wouldn’t stand fer any gang in the South End 
after this. An’ they know me. There won’t be 
no gang.” 

“ That’s good, but can’t we go a bit further ? 
Those boys must have something to interest them 
and fill their time. Could they be gotten into 
any of the clubs or work of Friendship House? ” 

“ I guess not — they don’t cotton to the Friend- 
ship House crowd,” Barney replied. “ But ” 

“ Well— but what?” 

“ They might — mebbe — some of ’em take up 
wid the Scouts.” Barney searched the Master’s 
face with questioning eyes as he spoke. “ I 
dunno ” he ended. 

“ Then why don’t you form a patrol and be 
their leader in a better fashion ? ” Alan Marshall 
asked quickly. 

“ Me ? ” Barney looked blankly incredulous. 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 253 


“ Yes, you. Hasn’t Billy told you about the 
scouting? He likes it.” 

“ Oh — him. He’s differ’nt, I told yer. I — I 
dunno would I like the scoutin’ er not — or the 
other fellers. I guess mebbe it’d be too tame 
fer ’em.” 

“ Well, suppose you do this. Some of my 
troop come here always Saturday evenings, and 
they seem to have pretty good times. Suppose 
you come next Saturday with one or two of the 
old gang — Barney, I’m so glad that gang is 
broken up ! — You needn’t say or do anything, 
if you come, only just be here and sit by our fire 
and listen to the talk. See how you like it. If 
you don’t care to come again on a Scout night, 
you needn’t. But, Barney, because you have 
come to me when you are in trouble, we are 
friends now, and I hope you will come to me 
whenever you need a friend. Like Billy, you 
are one of my boys from this time on, and I 
always stand by my boys. Besides, if you don’t 
conclude to join the Scouts, you and I will have 
to think of some other way of turning those boys 
around. You've turned square around — I can 
see that, and now we — you and I together — must 
try our best to start the others too on a new road. 
And, besides, do you know what the Tigers are 
trying to do ? ” 

Barney nodded. “ To clean up de South End, 
but it’s too big a job fer ’em. They’ll never put 
it through.” 

“ I had begun to feel so myself, but now with 
you on our side and maybe the old gang work- 


254 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

in g for instead of against us, I begin to feel 
sure we shall do it. That’s a man’s job, Barney 
— a big man’s job. You want to have a hand in 
it, don’t you? ” 

The appeal was to the boy’s dominant char- 
acteristic, and his eyes answered it. Barney was 
born to lead and he knew it. Also it was just 
the hour in his life when his mind, bewildered 
and unsettled by Mack’s terrible death was 
reaching out blindly for something new and safe 
to grapple with. A flush swept over his face 
and he lifted his head like one who scents battle. 

“ It’ll be a gran’ fight, annyhow,” he exulted. 
“ I wouldn’t mind havin’ a hand in it.” 

“ That’s good,” the Master replied. “ We need 
all the help we can get; only remember, if you 
do get any of the old gang to help in this, that 
Scouts always fight fair , if fight they must.” 

Barney straightened suddenly. “ I ain’t fer- 
gettin’,” he said. “ I’m on de square now, too.” 

“ And, Barney ” — the boy had risen, his long 
lank figure quite as tall as the Master’s — “ you’ll 
have many a battle to fight with yourself, too, 
and you won’t always win. Nobody does al- 
ways. So when you stumble back into the old 
ways, you must just try all the harder next time. 
I shall expect you Saturday evening, anyhow.” 

“ I dunno — mebbe,” Barney responded as he 
went away. 

But when Saturday night came he was there. 
He came with Billy, and behind him slouched the 
boy he had called “ Mug ” — his real name was 
Hugh Boyce. He was not an attractive-looking 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 255 

figure. A sudden realisation of this fact seemed 
to dawn upon Barney as he glanced from him to 
Alan Marshall. But the Master met the stranger 
with as pleasant a greeting as he had given to 
Barney. 

“ Oh, yes, I remember you,” he said. “ How 
is your brother ? ” 

“ Huh ! He’s all right,” muttered the boy, and 
he proceeded to efface himself as much as he 
could by slipping into a seat in the darkest corner 
of the room, from which he did not once stir 
until the evening was over. 

The Tigers, when they came, cast glances inter- 
ested and intensely curious at Barney and the 
other boy. What could it mean — their presence 
here — what would it mean with reference to their 
great undertaking, they wondered, and each read 
the same questions in the eyes of the others. The 
Owls and Panthers, on the contrary, paid little 
attention to the strangers, not knowing who they 
were. They were used by now to the Scout 
Master’s ways, and if he had brought the veriest 
street arab into one of their campfire meetings, 
they would not have been surprised, and indeed 
this boy with Barney was not so far from a 
genuine street arab. 

At these campfire meetings, sometimes the 
Master told the story and sometimes it was read 
or told by one of the boys. To-night the Master 
told the stirring tale of a Western city long held 
under the dominion of corrupt political rule, and 
delivered finally through the untiring efforts of 
a single man — a young lawyer who had given his 


256 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


time and money and professional ability without 
hope of any return save the satisfaction of free- 
ing his city from corruption and securing to its 
people the rights that belonged to them as citi- 
zens. It was a splendid record of self-sacrifice 
for the common good, and the boys listened with 
breathless interest — none more so than Barney 
Doyle. 

“ That’s what you meant by living for one’s 
country,” Sidney Hart said, breaking the silence 
that had lasted for a moment after the story 
was ended. 

“ Yes, that’s one way,” the Master replied. 

“ It’s fine, but I’d rather fight for my country 
— in battle, I mean,” declared Taylor. 

“ Oh, if you want just glory, of course that’s 
the way to win it,” Wilson Harding put in. 

“ Well, somebody has to fight. And, anyway, 
you risk your life — that’s no small thing,” Taylor 
insisted. 

“ That young lawyer risked his life while he 
was fighting the ring, didn’t he, Mr. Marshall ? ” 
somebody asked. 

“ A great many times; and if he had lost it 
and lost the fight, there would have been no 
glory for him,” the Master answered. 

“ So I think he was more of a hero than those 
who risk their lives in battle,” Sidney added 
thoughtfully. 

“ I think so, too,” the Master agreed. Then 
he turned to the Tigers and inquired, “ Boys, 
how is your battle going?” 

Nolan shook his head with a swift side glance 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 257 

at the two figures in the shadow. “ Looks like 
we’re gettin’ beat, but Billy won’t own it,” he 
said. 

The Master smiled at Billy. Billy seldom 
smiled, but his face softened curiously as he met 
the Master’s eyes. “ We ain’t licked yet,” he 
declared. 

“ You’re like Napoleon, Billy — you don’t know 
when you are beaten,” said Wilson with a laugh 
that had a friendly ring to it. 

Billy had but a dim idea who Napoleon was, 
but he answered soberly, “ I ain’t aimin’ to 
know,” and he looked about in surprise at the 
laugh which greeted that. 

Then Nolan told how they had been making 
a house to house canvas of the South End trying 
to get all the boys interested in what they were 
trying to do. 

“ We got three clean yards on our block,” 
Jenkins announced triumphantly. 

“ And can you keep them clean, Jenkins? ” 

“ I guess so, now the ” Jenkins stopped 

short, with a quick glance at Barney and the 
other boy. 

Nolan finished the sentence for him. “ Now 
the gang’s let up. If they’ll keep hands off, we 
kin keep them yards clean.” 

“ I don’t think you’ll be troubled any more by 
the old gang, Nolan,” the Master said. “ It’s 
broken up, isn’t it, Doyle ? ” 

Barney nodded, drawing farther into the shad- 
ows, as all eyes turned with quick interest to 
him. 


258 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Well, Nolan/’ the Master went on, “ I begin 
to feel much more hopeful. You have a very 
big job on your hands, but if you stand by your 
guns long enough, I believe you’ll win your bat- 
tle, and it will be well worth all the hard work 
you can put into it.” 

For an hour longer the talk went on, touch- 
ing upon various themes. At nine-thirty the 
boys began to leave, but the Master kept Barney 
and his companion till the last. 

“ Did you find it dull this evening, Barney ? ” 
he inquired. 

Barney brushed the question aside and asked 
another. “ What them Tigers tryin’ ter do 
now ? ” 

“To clean up the South End. I thought you 
understood that.” 

“ Yes — but how? Jest cleanin’ up a few back 
yards an’ t’rowin’ out the ash heaps, same ol’ 
way?” Barney demanded. 

“ That’s only a small part — just the beginning. 
They mean to hammer away until they get the 
city to keep the streets and alleys down there as 
clean as they are up here.” 

“ Huh ! Ol’ Reagan’s fightin’ ’em. He owns 
half the South End, an’ he don’t want no cleanin’ 
up ! ” scoffed Barney. 

“ Why doesn’t he ? ” The Master wanted to 
make Barney talk. 

“ ’Cause he’d have to fix up the houses he 
owns. All them shanties in Goat Alley is his, 
an’ lots more.” 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 259 

“ All the bad ones an’ most the s’loons,” said 
Boyce, speaking for the first time. 

“ I knew he owned much of the real estate 
down there, and I’ve tried to see him, but I never 
have,” the Master said. 

Boyce grinned. “ He ain’t wantin’ to see yer,” 
said Barney. “ He’s a bad lot — Reagan is.” 

“ Do you know him ? ” 

Barney did. 

“ Can you think of any way to get hold of 
•him?” 

“ To see him, you mean? ” 

“ To see him first. But can you think of any 
way to persuade him to help us make the South 
End a decent place to live in ? ” 

“ Ain’t no way ’less you could chuck ol’ Reagan 
in the river. You can’t ever get round him,” 
Barney asserted with conviction. 

The next Monday evening Barney, with Boyce 
at his heels, hunted up Nolan. “ Come on,” 
he said, in the manner of one used to being 
obeyed. “ I want you an’ all the rest of ’em 
to-night.” 

“The rest o’ the Tigers?” Nolan questioned. 

“ Yep. Hurry up an’ get ’em.” 

“ I’ve got to know what ye want ’em fer 
first,” Nolan declared positively. 

Barney eyed him with a scowl. “Ye pig- 
headed fool,” he growled. “ Ain’t ye got sense 
enough ter see’t I’ve chucked de gang an’ all 
that? I mean business — on de square. Round 
up yer Scouts an’ be quick about it. We’re goin’ 
up ter Billy’s.” 


260 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

If Billy was the objective point, Nolan thought 
it must be all right, though he still distrusted 
Barney. So, somewhat reluctantly, he went with 
the two boys, and the patrol call quickly brought 
out the other five Tigers. 

“ Now, come on ! ” Barney ordered and hur- 
ried them up to the Home. Arrived there, he 
put Nolan forward. “ You been here before, 
ain’t ye?” he demanded. “Well, then, you go 
in an’ tell Billy I want him.” 

Billy answered the summons promptly, and 
seemed not much surprised at sight of Barney, 
who demanded, “ Kin we sit there an’ talk ? ” 
pointing to the broad piazza that ran around 
three sides of the old-fashioned house. 

“ Till ten o’clock,” replied Billy, “ if we ain’t 
too noisy.” 

“ Come on, then,” Barney rejoined, and pres- 
ently the nine boys were seated there in the 
light of the street lamps. 

“ Now,” said Barney, “ you fellers pitch in an’ 
tell us all about this scoutin’ business — all of it, 
mind ye, what ye like an’ what ye don’t like. 
We want to know it all.” 

It took several minutes for the tongues to get 
really loosened, but there was no delay after 
that. Barney, listening, and flinging out an oc- 
casional quick, keen question, soon had a clear 
idea of the study and work and play that gave 
scouting its absorbing interest to the boys. He 
heard all about that wonderful month at Eagle 
Lake, with its work and study and frolic — of 
Billy’s adventure and the visit of Mr. Hart and 


HINDERERS AND HELPERS 261 

his big car; and then the boys spoke in lower 
tones of Sullivan’s death ; and that led naturally 
to the great undertaking in which, they admitted, 
they seemed as yet to have made so little 
progress. 

A church clock near by began to strike, and 
instantly Billy was on his feet. “ It’s ten,” he 
said. “ You must go now,” and before the last 
stroke had fallen, the other boys were tramping 
down the street. 

“ Think you’ll join, Barney?” Nolan ques- 
tioned curiously as they went. 

“ I — ain’t sayin’ — yet,” Barney replied, and 
not another word did he speak until the Tigers 
turned off at Nolan’s corner. Then Barney 
turned at once to his companion. 

“ Now, Mug, ye know all about this scout 
business. What about it?” he demanded. 

“ I dunno,” the other boy responded doubt- 
fully. “ You goin’ into it? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then I’m thinkin’ I will, too. Got ter do 
somethin’ now the gang’s broke up.” 

“ That’s it, Mugsy,” Barney spoke quickly. 
“ I’m countin’ on it workin’ that way with the 
rest er the bunch. They got ter have somethin’ 
if they don’t have the gang ter run wit’, an’ we 
got ter nail ’em quick ’fore they get mixed up 
in somethin’ else — see? Now then, Mug, if 
you’ll stick to me, I reckon we can put this 
through. I’ll get a patrol o’ my own. I’ll be 
the leader an’ you the ’sistant. How’s that ? ” 

“ I’m willin’,” Boyce replied. “ But the’s only 


262 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

eight in a patrol, Nolan says. What about the 
rest o’ the gang? ” 

“ What’s the matter wit’ havin’ two patrols ? ” 
Barney retorted promptly. “ Let Tibbs be the 
leader er the other. That’ll get him in an’ I’m 
thinkin’ the rest’ll follow sooner or later.” 

“ An’ if they don’t? ” Boyce questioned. 

“ Well,” replied Barney slowly, “ ye see, Mug, 
it ain’t any little fool play I’m planning.” He 
drew himself up and threw back his shoulders. 
“ I’m gettin’ too big fer the kind o’ things we’ve 
been doin’ ; an’,” his voice dropped to a lower 
key, “ it ain’t what Mack said — that ain’t all, 
annyhow — it’s Billy Burns an’ the other fellers 
— them Tigers. Look at them, an’ look at — the 
gang ” — in the darkness he waved his arm — 
“ four of ’em in the reform school, one in the 
4 pen ’ — and then Mack. I ain’t meanin’ to end 
up like them — any of ’em — an’ you ain’t, either, 
Mug.” 

Boyce shook his head in silence. Barney went 
on, “ If ’t hadn’t been fer Marshall, Billy’d been 
over t’ the reform school wit’ Tim an’ Jake to- 
day. He’ll help us, too — he says so. An’ another 
thing — it looks like there’s goin’ ter be a hot 
fight down here in the South End an’ I want 
ter be in it. I’m owin’ ol’ Reagan something! ” 

“ Me, too ! Don’t ye be fergittin’ what I owe 
ol’ Reagan.” There was a threat in the tone. 

“ No, Mug ” — there was a curious softening 
in Barney’s voice now — “ no, I ain’t forgettin’ 
Humpy,” he said. 


XXI 


BARNEY AGAIN 

B ARNEY lost no time — the very next night 
he and Boyce set forth to round up the 
old gang. They knew well enough 
where the boys were likely to be, and found them 
while the evening was still young. Barney led 
the way to his own room, a bare place, but one 
that he shared with no one. The boys had often 
been there before, and to-night they came full 
of curiosity. Barney had told them that the 
gang was broken up and, moreover, that it was 
not to be put together again. The others had 
not yet determined what was to be done about 
it, but every boy was eager to hear what Barney 
had to say to-night. He did not keep them 
waiting. 

“ Boys,” he began, “ I told yer ’t the gang’s 
done fer. I ain’t goin’ ter have any more o’ ye 
say ’t I helped get yer inter the ‘ pen ’ or — or 
worse. I’m on the square now, cuttin’ out s’loons 
an’ all the rest of it. I’ve been sick of it all fer 
a long while, but I hung on ’cause I didn’t know 
what ter take up instead. Now I know. I’m 
goin’ in wit’ Nolan an’ his crowd, an’ we’re goin’ 
ter make things hum down here in the South 
End. I tell yer there’s goin’ ter be lively times 
when we get after ol’ Reagan, an’ we shan’t let 
263 


264 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 
up on him till the job’s done an’ done to last — 
don’t ye fergit that ! ” 

“ Or Reagan — what ye goin’ ter do to him ? ” 
half a dozen voices demanded excitedly. There 
was an ancient feud between Reagan and the 
gang. 

“ Goin’ ter make him do what he won’t like — 
fix up the ol’ ratholes he’s rentin’, an’ clean out 
the yards, an’ help us get the city to clean the 
streets — that’s what ! ” 

The boys stared at Barney and at each other, 
and then they all broke into uproarious laughter. 
Old Reagan — old Reagan! Barney was expect- 
ing to make old Reagan do all this ! Had Barney 
gone crazy, or what did it mean? 

But Barney soon convinced them that he was 
not crazy, and having a tongue that could both 
coax and threaten, and an iron will behind it, he 
actually persuaded the boys to join him in this 
new enterprise. And they finally agreed, not 
because they had the least idea that Barney 
would succeed, but because they loved nothing 
better than a fight, and this bade fair to be such 
a contest as the South End had never seen be- 
fore. As to the Scouts — well, maybe there would 
be some fun of a mild sort in belonging to them 
for a while, and they could quit when they got 
tired. Anyhow, things were sure to be lively 
when Barney got busy. So from a mixture of 
motives all of the boys agreed that night once 
more to enlist under the banner of Barney Doyle. 

It was late when they left, but Boyce lingered 
yet a few minutes. 


BARNEY AGAIN 


265 


“ I never b’lieved you’d get ’em,” he said. 

Barney laughed. “ I knew I would,” he ex- 
ulted. “ I went fer ’em jest at the right time — 
see ? They’s missin’ the gang — an’ me — an’ 
they’s wantin’ somethin’ new, an’ most of all, 
they’s achin’ fer a fight — an’ that’s how ’tis. 
They wouldn’t a-come in but fer the chance of 
a scrap wit’ ol’ Reagan. What ye grinnin’ at ? ” 

“ I’m thinkin’ how long we’ll keep them scout 
laws — any of us,” replied Boyce. 

Barney’s brows wrinkled in a dubious frown. 
“ There’s the rub,” he admitted. “ That’s 
where I’ll fall down, too, I’m thinkin’. You 
an’ me’ll have to pin up our mouths fer a 
while ter keep the cigarettes out an’ the swear- 
words in — eh ? ” His mouth widened in a rueful 
grin as he pulled some cigarettes from his pocket. 
Then with a laugh, he handed half of them to 
the other boy. “ Smoke ’em all, Mug, an’ I’ll 
finish the rest to-night. Then I’ll swear off for 
good or — or ” 

He stood for a moment looking at the ciga- 
rettes in his hand; then with a sudden swift 
movement he threw up the window and flung 
them into the street. “ Got to cut it out — might 
as well begin now,” he added doggedly. 

But Boyce, less heroic, stuffed his half of the 
cigarettes hastily into his pocket, and when he 
left spent some time hunting in the street for 
those Barney had flung away. 

A day or two later Barney, with a new light 
in his eyes and a new lift to his square chin, ap- 
peared again at Alan Marshall’s rooms. 


266 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Fve got two new patrols fer your troop/’ he 
announced. 

The Scout Master did not answer at once, and 
Barney’s face clouded. He made a swift move- 
ment towards the door, but the Master stopped 
him. 

“ Wait, Barney, till I explain,” he said. “ As 
far as I myself am concerned, I should be more 
than glad to have the new patrols in my 
troop ” 

“ Then I s’pose ye think we ain’t fitten to be 
wit’ them swells in the other patrols — is that 
it ? ” Barney demanded, with voice full of anger. 

“ What do you yourself think about it, Bar- 
ney ? ” the Master asked quietly. “ I suppose 
these are the members of your old gang — these 
new Scouts ? ” 

Barney nodded. 

“ Well, you know a great deal better than I 
do what kind of boys they are — what sort of 
language they use — what sort of lives they have 
been leading. Do you think it would be right for 
me to bring these boys into companionship with 
the younger ones in my troop — boys like Jack 
Harding and Coe and Ryder? What do you 
honestly think about it, Barney?” 

The quiet, pleasant tone and the evident sin- 
cerity of the question banished the boy’s anger. 
He sat quiet and thoughtful, his keen eyes study- 
ing the Master’s face. After a moment he an- 
swered, a note of heavy disappointment in his 
voice, “ Mebbe not.” 

“ You see, it is this way, Barney. The parents 


BARNEY AGAIN 


267 


of some of my Scouts would not have allowed 
their boys to join if I had not had charge of the 
troop; so it is my duty to see that the boys are 
not thrown with dangerous companions.” 

“ There’s the Tigers ” Barney ventured. 

“ Yes, but it was the other way about there. 
The Tigers were the first patrol in my troop, and 
the others joined afterwards. And the Tigers 
are not the same boys they were a year ago. 
You see that, don’t you? ” 

Barney admitted that. “ But,” he persisted, 
“ if these other fellers ain’t goin’ ter have no 
chance, how c’n they get any better ? ” 

“ They surely shall have a chance,” the Mas- 
ter earnestly declared. “ I want every one of 
them, Barney. I want to help give them their 
chance, and we’ll find a way to do it. Perhaps 
we can manage it this way — by taking them into 
the troop on probation. Do you know what that 
means? ” 

“ Tryin’ ’em out? ” the boy asked. 

“ Yes, that’s it. I’m sure,” the Master’s smile 
was warm and friendly, “ I’m sure, Barney, you 
have already found out that it is going to be 
no easy thing for you yourself to keep some of 
the scout rules — if you know the rules ? ” 

“ I know ’em — I’ve read the book.” 

“ Then you know that Scouts cannot lie or 
swear. They must be clean inside and out, loyal 
to the flag, to their officers, polite and kind and 
honourable — and they must always obey orders. 
You must already have found how hard it is to 
keep all these rules even for one day.” 


268 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ You’re right there,” responded Barney with 
rueful emphasis. 

“ Yet you are in dead earnest about it — I can 
see that. And for boys like those of your old 
gang it will be very hard at first. You must 
expect them to fail over and over again. If they 
keep on trying, however, it will grow easier after 
a while. I think it may be wise to put them on 
probation for, we’ll say, three months; and then 
perhaps they might become regularly members 
of the troop — if they hold out.” 

Barney nodded. He could not deny the wis- 
dom of this, but it was plain to see that he was 
deeply disappointed. “Ye see,” he explained, 
“ I don’t see how I’m goin’ to hold ’em to them 
rules — myself. I was countin’ on you to help 
the rest of us same’s you have Billy. You let 
Billy in your troop an’ he was one of the gang 
— before.” 

“ I know — but you yourself admitted that 
Billy was different from the others.” 

“ That’s so. He was.” 

“And Billy was only one. That is quite dif- 
ferent from taking in a whole patrol or two of 
boys ” 

“ Yes, I know,” Barney hastily responded. 

“ But,” the Master repeated, “ you can count 
on my help, Barney, in every possible way. You 
can bring the boys here to my rooms whenever 
you like — they will always be welcome; and I 
think once a month you might bring them to the 
regular Saturday campfire. There would not be 
room for so many here, but Mr. Hart is having 


BARNEY AGAIN 


269 


another room fixed up for us — a fine large one 
with a big fireplace. It will be ready soon, and 
I’ll have your boys come and help us celebrate 
our first meeting there. Be sure, Barney, that 
I am ready day or night to help you and any of 
these boys in any way. ‘ All Scouts are 
brothers,’ you know, and I consider you all my 
younger brothers. And as for you — Barney, do 
you remember the first time you and I met ? ” 

“ Uh huh ! The time Boyce give Scud Smith 
what was cornin’ to him,” replied Barney. 

“ Yes.” The Master smiled. “ You were pretty 
rough with me that day, but all the same I liked 
you then, and I’ve wanted to be friends with you 
ever since. Now I understand why I felt so. It 
is because you are going to grow into the splen- 
did man you were meant to be. I expect to be 
very proud of you and Billy some day.” 

“ I — dunno,” muttered Barney, but the flush 
on his face now was not from anger. He stood 
up, awkwardly fumbling his cap. “ Then I’ll tell 
’em they’re on probation — the boys ? ” he asked. 

“ Perhaps we can keep them on probation with- 
out their knowing it,” the Master suggested. 
“The best way to get rid of bad things is to 
crowd them out with good things. If you can 
get those boys to helping the Tigers in what they 
are trying to do in the South End — get them 
really interested and earnest over it — it would be 
the best thing possible for the boys themselves.” 

“ I know. I’m thinkin’ they’ll do that,” Barney 
said. 

“Good!” replied the Master. “And we’re 


270 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


going to have another big meeting with Scouts 
from the different troops showing what they 
have learned, and all that. Take your boys to 
that meeting, and have them get their uniforms 
and banners as soon as possible. That will give 
them the feeling that they belong — that they are 
a part of it all. That kind of thing helps a lot. 
I suppose they all work in the daytime ? ” 

“ Yes, an’ two is goin’ to evenin’ school now. 
I’m goin’, too, next year.” 

“ Good again. You are on the up-grade, Bar- 
ney, and you’ll come out all right ; only don’t get 
discouraged when things go wrong, for they are 
bound to do that sometimes.” 

“ I know,” the boy said soberly. 

But as he went away, there grew in him a new 
ambition — half perhaps for himself, but half at 
least for these other boys — for Barney could not 
shake off the memory of Mack’s last words to 
him. They seemed burnt into his heart. 

Overtaking Nolan near his own home, he in- 
quired how the Tigers were getting on with their 
big job. Nolan despondently acknowledged that 
they were making little progress. He took Bar- 
ney through the house and showed him the yard. 
“ We’re keepin’ it clean, ye see, an’ some others, 
too; but between the folks that don’t care to 
have things clean, an’ that gang of yours, it’s — 
it’s tough work, I tell ye. Say, d’ye know it 
took all us Tigers a whole week to clean this 
one yard? ” 

“ I guess so,” Barney agreed, “ doin’ it most all 
at night.” 


BARNEY AGAIN 


n 1 

“ An’, too,” added Nolan gloomily, “ it cuts out 
all the fun — baseball an’ picture shows an’ every- 
thing — an’ the fellers git grouchy over it.” 

“ ’Course they do,” replied Barney. “ You 
can’t do it alone — you Tigers — that’s what. But 
now the gang’s goin’ to pitch in an’ help ye.” 

“The gang — help!” Nolan gasped in open- 
mouthed amazement ; then he stuck his tongue in 
his cheek and winked. “ Help yer granny ! ” he 
scoffed. 

Barney looked at him gravely. “ That’s what 
I’m sayin — they’re goin’ ter help. Don’t ye know 
they’re all Scouts now? Well — they’re goin ’ ter 
help!” he repeated. 

Nolan’s face was a study. He was so accus- 
tomed to think of the gang as one of the worst 
obstacles in the way of progress that he could 
not all at once believe in this marvellous change, 
even although the gang had been transformed 
outwardly into scout patrols. 

“ Aw — well, we’ll see,” he replied evasively. 
Then reverting to past wrongs, he added, “ They 
dumped a cartload o’ truck in this very yard.” 

“ I know,” Barney admitted, “ but they wasn’t 
Scouts then, nor thinkin’ of bein’.” His glance 
swept along the row of ramshackle frame houses, 
every one bearing the marks of poverty and 
shiftlessness. He knew what most of the back 
yards looked like, and he did not wonder that 
the Tigers were discouraged. He followed 
Nolan back to the street where a pack of smaller 
boys were yelling and fighting. Nolan glowered 
at them. 


272 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ Them kids’ll be makin’ a new gang pretty 
soon,” he growled. “ They are up to all sorts 
o’ mean tricks now.” 

“ Why don’t ye get ’em to help ye ? ” Barney 
inquired. 

“ Help? How would I? ” 

“They do the mean tricks ’cause they got to 
be doin’ somethin’,” replied Barney, applying the 
Master’s wisdom, “ give ’em somethin’ better to 
do. Make Scouts of them.” 

“ S-scouts,” Nolan echoed, “ of them ? Why, 
they yell at us Tigers every time they see us in 
uniform, an’ sling dirt at us, an’ all that.” 

“ That’s ’cause they ain’t in it,” returned Bar- 
ney, “ an’ they want to be.” 

Nolan scratched, his head thoughtfully. 
“ Mebbe yer right — I dunno,” he said. 

“ But, see,” Barney counselled, “ don’t ye go 
beggin’ ’em to join. Jest let ’em find out that 
a new troop’s goin’ ter be made up down here, 
an’ they’ll be tumblin’ over each other ter get 
in it.” 

“ But,” Nolan objected, “ lots of ’em ain’t old 
enough yet to be Scouts.” 

“ Well, they’re goin’ to be old enough, ain’t 
they? Get ’em trainin’ fer it now. An’ make 
them that are Scouts keep their kid brothers out 
of mischief.” Then suddenly he changed the sub- 
ject. “Say, Nolan, how about that 'one kind- 
ness ’ biz? ” he asked curiously. “ D’ye stick to 
that, honest ? ” 

“ Yes, sir , we do ! ” Nolan declared. “ ’Course 
we fergit some days, though,” he admitted. 


BARNEY AGAIN 273 

“ What kind o’ things do ye do ? What you 
done ter-day ? ” Barney persisted. 

A red flush crept over Nolan’s face and he 
hesitated. “ You’ll think ’tain’t nothin’,” he 
evaded, kicking at a stone. 

“ Never you mind — I want to know. I got to 
do them things, too, ain’t I, now ? ” 

“ Well,” said Nolan slowly, “ I carried up a 
pail o’ water fer ol’ Mis’ Murphy, an’ I got a 
box over on the dump heap an’ broke it up fer 
Mis’ Peters — her man’s out of a job an’ they 
ain’t got no kindlin’ ” 

“What else?” Barney urged as Nolan 
paused. 

Nolan flung back his heau defiantly, ready to 
resent a glimmer of ridicule. “ Well, then, I kep’ 
the baby quiet while me mother fixed the dinner 
— there ! ” 

“ Hm, that’s free things,” was Barney’s com- 
ment. 

“ Oh, well, they ain’t much, any o’ them,” 
Nolan muttered. 

Barney nodded and turned away. “ But he 
didn’t laugh, anyhow,” Nolan said to himself, 
looking after him. 

It was the next evening that the Tigers began 
work on one of the worst of the yards. The 
house to which it belonged was now empty, and 
the tenants who had just departed had evidently 
dumped most of their belongings out of the 
windows before they left. On top of the usual 
small mountain of ashes, tin cans, and broken 
crockery, there was a rusty old stove and some 


274 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

remants of pipe, a broken bedstead, an old mat- 
tress, and a cartload of similar trash. 

The boys stood looking at it dubiously. 

“ It’s the worst yet,” Jenkins declared. 

“ It’ll take a month an’ more to clean it up,” 
added Finnegan. 

Billy began quietly laying aside the pieces of 
bedstead and other wood. “ Them’ll make some- 
body a fire,” he said to himself. 

It was then that Barney appeared with the two 
new patrols. The Tigers stared at the old 
gang half doubtfully, half defiantly, and Bar- 
ney, anxious to forestall possible hostilities, 
demanded : 

“Say, Nolan, jou bossin’ this job? Where 
d’ye want us to begin ? ” 

Nolan looked at the big fellows grinning be- 
hind Barney and promptly resigned in favour of 
their old leader. 

“ I guess if they’re goin’ ter work, you c’n 
boss, an’ we’ll take the orders,” he said. 

“ How about it ? ” Barney demanded of the 
other Tigers, and as no one ventured to object, 
he promptly took command, and soon had all 
his followers hard at work; but none of them 
worked harder than he. The Tigers laboured 
with fresh zeal, for the many hands made the 
labour light, and picks and shovels dug their 
way steadily into the great pile. 

“ Sidney Hart an’ Wilson Harding was down 
here the other day an’ took a picture of this yard 
an ’a lot of others,” Nolan said, as he worked 
beside Barney. 


BARNEY AGAIN 


275 


Barney scowled. “Took pictures! They bet- 
ter a-taken shovels an’ used ’em,” he growled. 

“ They did that, too — all the Owls an’ Pan- 
thers have been helpin’,” Nolan replied quickly. 

“An’ why shouldn’t they?” retorted Barney, 
but he scowled no longer. 

The work had been going on for an hour or 
more when a harsh voice was heard to demand, 
“ What are you doing here ? ” 

Instantly every boy turned and faced the door- 
way where, in the dusky light, stood an old man 
with a shaggy grey head, a hook nose, and little 
eyes set deep under bushy brows. It was 
Reagan. They all knew hiA. 

“ What are you doing on my property ? ” he 
demanded. 

“ Doin’ what you ought to have done — cleanin’ 
out the dirt,” Barney flung back. 

“ I don’t want it cleaned out. Get out of here 
— the whole lot of ye ! ” 

Barney deliberately turned his back on the old 
man. “ Keep at it,” he ordered the boys, “ an’ 
say nothin’ to him.” 

That order did not please the boys — there were 
many things they all wanted to say to old Reagan. 
It was only when Barney in a low tone passed 
the word along, “ Don’t ye see it’ll make him 
madder’n ” — he caught himself up quickly — 
“ swearin’ mad, if he can’t stop us. Work like 
blazes an’ say nothin’, no matter what he says ! ” 

It was good counsel, and the boys were willing 
to follow it when they saw that Reagan was half 
choked with rage. He stood in the doorway 


276 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

and swore at them, shaking his stick, and threat- 
ening them with all the terrors of the law ; at 
which the boys only laughed, and made their 
shovels fly the faster. This was something like 
— it gave the needed zest to hard labour. 

The old man went off at last, muttering threats 
and curses, and the boys expected the next night 
to find a policeman on hand to stop their labours ; 
but none appeared — much to their disappoint- 
ment — nor did Reagan interfere again. Perhaps 
he realised that the time was coming when he 
could no longer disregard the demands from the 
health office, and felt that, after all, he was get- 
ting the best of it since the boys were doing 
for nothing what he would have had to pay some 
one else to do, when he could no longer avoid 
the doing. 

So Barney and the old gang continued to 
work — not all of them every night, as the Tigers 
had worked — but still they gave most efficient 
help. And meantime the Tigers had set about 
turning other hinderers into helpers by organiz- 
ing a new troop in the South End. With due 
heed to Barney’s shrewd counsel, they talked 
scouting to all the boys, but asked none of them 
to become Scouts, and as Barney had foreseen, 
the boys were soon clamouring for a chance to 
join. And it was not long before nearly every boy 
in the entire neighbourhood who could qualify 
was enrolled, and working overtime to earn 
money enough for the uniform without which 
he could not feel himself a genuine Scout. Also 
the younger boys were counting the months that 



ONE OF THE SOUTH END PATROLS 










BARNEY AGAIN 


277 

separated them from the joys and glories of 
scout life, and were learning the oath and the 
rules, and beginning to practise the latter, too. 
Barney’s plan had worked well. 

His eyes were full of triumph the first time 
that the South End troop appeared at one of the 
public meetings. The Master, understanding the 
look, grasped the boy’s hand and shook it heartily. 

“ Good work, Barney — good work ! ” he said. 
“ It’s an improvement on the gang, isn’t it ? ” and 
Barney agreed that it was. 

Then as the Master looked again at the new 
troop, an idea flashed suddenly into his mind, and 
he turned to Sidney. 

“ Six patrols — a big troop, isn’t it, besides Bar- 
ney’s two,” he said. 

“ Fine ! ” replied Sidney, his eyes shining. 

“ Sidney,” the Master went on in a tone too 
low for other ears, “ you know all about the work 
of the Tigers down in the South End — you’ve 
talked it all over with them and Doyle, haven’t 
you?” 

“ Why, yes, lots of times, and you know we’ve 
been helping them, too. The Tigers ought to be 
the banner patrol of Troop 5, I think.” 

“ So do I. But, Sidney, could you tell the 
whole story, do you think — tell it so as to inter- 
est other people ? ” 

“ Why — I don’t know. What do you mean, 
Mr. Marshall?” 

“ This. When I saw that new troop over 
there, and remembered that the credit of it really 
belonged to the Tigers and Barney, it came to me 


278 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

that it would be a mighty strong object lesson — 
that troop and ours together. We are to have 
a meeting of the Civic Association next week. 
I was going to bring up the South End question 
there again, anyhow, but now I want you to 
help me.” 

“Me?” Sidney's face was full of bewilder- 
ment. 

“ Yes, you. I want to have Troop 5 and this 
new one at that meeting, all in uniform, and I 
want you to tell there just as you would tell it 
to me what the Tigers have been doing in the 
South End — what they are trying to do now. 
The sight of those boys there will appeal to the 
Association very strongly. I believe that they 
and you can do more for the South End than 
any one else could possibly do.” 

“ But — but, Mr. Marshall,” Sidney stam- 
mered, “ I never spoke in a meeting in my life. 
I’d get scared stiff ! ” 

“ No, you wouldn’t — not when you think what 
you are going to speak for — what the telling of 
that story to that audience may mean. You 
would not be scared, Sidney.” 

The boy drew a long breath and his eyes began 
to glow. “ I’d like to — I’d like fine to do it, if 
I could,” he said. 

“ You can — and you will. Don’t let yourself 
worry over what you will say or how you will 
say it. You know the story and the words will 
come to you,” Alan Marshall answered. 

Sidney went home with his thoughts in a 
tumult. He did not tell his father what the 


BARNEY AGAIN 279 

Master had asked him to do, but at the dinner 
table he broke out suddenly, “ Father, do you 
know anybody with a lot of money to invest ? ” 

His father gave him a keen glance. “ What if 
I do? ” he retorted. 

“ Only that I wish you’d get him to invest it 
down in the South End.” 

“ In what ? Saloons ? ” 

“ No, in small houses or tenements.” 

“ What are you driving at, Sidney? ” Mr. Hart 
demanded, and the boy told the story of the 
latest developments in the South End, and of 
the big new troop organised there. Mr. Hart 
had heard fragments of all this before; but to- 
night he listened with a deeper interest than ever, 
seeing how much it all meant to his own boy. 

“ What I can’t see,” Sidney went on, “ is why 
men with money to spare don’t buy up all those 
old shanties and burn them, and build decent 
houses there. Then have the alleys and streets 
made clean and kept clean.” 

" Couldn't have them kept clean. The people 
down there wouldn’t keep a marble palace clean 
if you built one for them,” the banker declared. 

“ I guess they’d keep it cleaner than the places 
they live in now — with no water except the pump 
in the yard, and no conveniences of any sort, and 
no regular collection of — anything, except rent.” 

“ You seem to be well posted on conditions 
down there, Sidney.” 

“ I am — I’ve been down. I’ve seen the houses 
and the yards and the alleys, and, father, putting 
the poor folks who have to live there altogether 


280 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

out of the question— I cant see how the rich men 
in this city can let such a place exist, for their 
own sakes. It is no wonder we have epidemics 
of typhoid and everything. We’re bound to, 
while that pesthole’s there ! ” 

Mr. Hart listened and questioned, and in his 
heart there was mingled surprise and a great 
satisfaction at the replies he got. To have the 
boy so keenly and intelligently interested in a 
matter like this was worth far more to his father 
than the cost of the new houses for which Sidney 
was pleading. 

“ Well, well,” he said at last, “ I’ll think it 
over. Something’s got to be done down there — 
you’re right about that.” 

The next day he went with Alan Marshall to 
the South End. 

“ That boy of mine,” he said to the Scout 
Master, “ has convinced me that something 
must be done down here, and done now, and I 
want to see for myself what is most needed.” 

“ I think the time for action has come,” the 
Master replied, “ and I feel that our city will 
owe a debt of gratitude to those boys who have 
been working with so much energy and per- 
severance all these months. But for them there 
is no saying how long things might have re- 
mained as they are — as they have been for 
years.” 

When the car rolled slowly through the nar- 
row unpaved streets, between the rows of ram- 
shackle houses with their broken windows and 
rickety steps — interspersed with vacant lots 


BARNEY AGAIN 


281 ' 


strewn with rubbish — and swarming with babies 
and children of all ages, the banker was soon 
convinced that his son had not exaggerated the 
conditions or the needs. 

“ I understand Reagan owns most of these 
houses. Won’t he sell ? ” he inquired. 

“ Not at any reasonable price. To my knowl- 
edge several attempts have been made to buy him 
out, but the moment a possible purchaser ap- 
pears, prices go soaring.” 

“ Then the only way is to secure land near here 
and put up decent houses.” 

“ And then persuade the people to move into 
them,” added Alan Marshall. 

“ It would hardly seem as if much persuasion 
would be required to get them to leave such 
places as these for good houses.” 

“ But, you see, Mr. Hart, these shanties are 
rented for a mere song. They can be — having 
no conveniences and no repairs — and poor people 
often have to stay in such places to save a dollar 
or two a week when the income is small and the 
family large.” 

“ I see,” assented the banker. “ That’s one of 
your Scouts ahead there, isn’t it? ” he added. 

“ Yes, it’s Nolan. He seems to be trying to 
stop the car.” 

At a word from the banker, the chauffeur 
stopped the car, and Nolan, picking up something 
from the street, came running up, his face one 
broad grin of welcome. 

“ It’s glass — see? Might ’a’ busted yer tire,” 
he explained, holding out the glass in his left 


282 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

hand while his right gave the salute to the Scout 
Master. 

“ Thank you, Nolan — you’ve saved me a big 
bill, maybe,” Mr. Hart said. “ Drop that glass 
somewhere and step in here, won’t you ? ” 

Would he? Nolan’s grin couldn’t well be any 
broader, but never perhaps would he know a 
prouder hour than that when, in the big car, he 
rode through the narrow streets, and knew him- 
self the envy of countless youngsters that stared 
from doorsteps and sidewalks all along the way. 
The banker questioned him, and he confirmed all 
that Sidney had said, and added particulars that 
made Mr. Hart very thoughtful. 

“ Well, Nolan,” he said, when, after a glorious 
spin around the river drive, he brought the boy 
back to his own door, “ you Tigers have done 
good work down here, and now I think it is time 
for some of the rest of us to lend a hand.” 

“ I reckon there’s enough fer all the hands to 
do,” Nolan replied earnestly, and they left him 
standing at salute, his face aglow. 

“ The truth is, Marshall,” the banker said, as 
they rolled swiftly away, “ these boys have made 
me thoroughly ashamed of myself. I ought to 
have investigated conditions down here for my- 
self long ago. I knew they were bad, though 
I didn’t know how bad, but I’ll try to make up 
for it now.” 


XXII 


APPLIED PATRIOTISM 

A LAN MARSHALL had invited many rep- 
resentative men and women to be present 
* at the meeting of the Civic Association 
that next week, and many came, so many that it 
was with difficulty that seats were reserved in the 
body of the hall. Only Marshall himself and 
the president of the Association knew for whom 
the seats were reserved, and there was a stir 
and an exchange of surprised glances and in- 
quiries when the two troops in scout uniform 
marched in. Sidney felt as if his heart dropped 
down into his boots when, obeying the Master’s 
gesture, he went to the platform and faced the 
crowded room. He knew he never could speak 
there — he was sure to fizzle, make a fool of 
himself and spoil the whole thing. But that last 
thought steadied him. What if he did make a 
fool of himself? That wouldn’t matter to any- 
body but himself. But — spoil the whole thing — 
this thing that meant so much to all these South- 
Enders — so much indeed to the whole city ? 
Oh, no, he couldn’t do that. And there was 
no danger. It was the story — the story — not 
the way Sidney Hart might tell it that mattered. 
And so he found himself listening quietly as the 
chairman said: 


283 


284 j SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

“ We are to have to-night an illustration of 
what might aptly be termed ‘ applied patriotism * 
— in the story of what has been accomplished 
by these boys who are our guests to-night. The 
story will be told by Sidney Hart, who knows 
all about it because he has had a share in the 
work.” 

“I’ve had only a small share in it,” Sidney 
began, as he stepped forward, “ but Mr. Mar- 
shall, our Scout Master, has asked me to tell 
you what the other boys — the banner patrol 
of our troop — have done, and afterwards we are 
going to illustrate the story with some pictures 
taken by other members of the troop.” 

In two minutes he had forgotten all about 
himself and was telling the story of what the 
Tigers had done — of the obstacles they had had 
to meet — of the long hours of night labour fol- 
lowing school or other work, and finally of the 
transformation of the alley gang into faithful 
helpers in the work. He told the story well, 
so well that his audience listened with the keen- 
est interest, and as the men and women there 
looked from the boy on the platform to those 
other boys in the seats, their hearts were deeply 
stirred and they were moved by a common im- 
pulse — to help these boys. To many of them, 
up to this time, scouting had meant only a safe 
and pleasant amusement for the boys with, per- 
haps, some useful training of eye and hand in- 
cluded. To-night they realised what possibili- 
ties were in it for growth in character, and the 
promotion of a wide brotherhood as well. Here 


APPLIED PATRIOTISM 285 

was Sidney Hart, only son of one of the wealthy 
and prominent men of the city, counting himself 
in with these rough boys of the South End — 
identifying himself with them — and pleading for 
— what? For the simple sanitary conditions 
which would make the South End a safe place 
for those who must live there; and which at the 
same time would put an end to conditions that 
were a menace to the health of the entire city. 

And when Sidney stepped down from the plat- 
form and took his seat with his troop, the lights 
were turned out, and on a sheet were thrown 
many pictures — pictures of South End streets 
and alleys and back yards, of Reagan’s rows 
of houses, swarming with children, of interiors 
of those houses with rotten stairs and crumbling 
plaster and broken windows. Last of all a pic- 
ture of that yard piled high with every sort of 
refuse, where the boys were at work when 
Reagan ordered them off his property — and they 
did not go. 

Before the audience dispersed that evening it 
had been decided that, cost what it might in 
money or effort, there should be a clean sweep 
in the South End. And money was contributed 
on the spot, for hiring men and teams, and a 
committee appointed to see that every yard and 
alley was cleaned as quickly as it could be done. 

“ The boys have done their share, now we 
will do ours, and we will find means to compel 
the city authorities to do what we cannot do 
ourselves,” they said. 

As for the boys, they went home in a state 


286 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 

of joyous excitement and anticipation — those 
who lived in the South End hardly more de- 
lighted than the others. 

Sidney Hart found his father walking rest- 
lessly up and down the library. “ So,” he ex- 
claimed when the boy entered, “ you’ve taken 
to public speaking, have you ? ” 

Sidney laughed a bit nervously. " You 
weren’t there ! ” he cried. 

“ Yes, sir, I was there, and — and I was proud 
of you, my boy.” 

At the look in his father’s eyes Sidney choked 
up a bit, but in a moment he had forgotten 
himself again and was talking eagerly about 
the others. 

“ Didn’t they make a great show — the two 
troops ? ” he exclaimed. “ And weren’t the 
people interested! I tell you, father, it’s com- 
ing soon — what those fellows have been working 
for — it surely is. Mr. Strong spoke to me after 
the meeting, and Judge Pierson, and ever so 
many others. And oh, father, two of the city 
council were there, and I heard Mr. Marshall 
giving them the plainest kind of talk.” 

“ Yes, the boys have won, sure,” Mr. Hart 
answered. “ There will be clean streets and 
alleys in the South End and no delay about it 
now. And, Sidney, I can’t let you boys have 
all the fun. I’ve got an option on a big piece 
of land down there, and an architect is already 
at work on plans for small houses.” 

Sidney drew a long breath. “ Well,” he cried, 
“ if this hasn’t been a great day. I can hardly 


APPLIED PATRIOTISM 


287 


wait to tell the boys this last news — I can’t 
wait ! ” and he went out of the room, and up 
the stairs two steps at a time, and the next mo- 
ment his father heard him calling Wilson Hard- 
ing on the telephone. 

As for Barney Doyle — when he heard the lat- 
est plans for the South End, he was divided in 
opinion. Deep down in his heart he sympa- 
thised with the boys of the old gang who felt 
that they had been defrauded because the longed- 
for fight with old Reagan was not to come off 
after all. But in fact new interests were al- 
ready beginning to drive old grudges and old 
desires from the minds of the one-time gang. 
At Sidney’s suggestion, Mr. Hart had done more 
than fit up a campfire room for the troop ; he had 
added to that two other rooms, one furnished 
with papers and magazines, and the other with 
tools and work-benches which any member of 
the troop could use when he would. The boy 
who does not like to have the freedom of a 
good tool chest — without any obligation to use it 
— is yet to be found. Barney’s followers and 
the Tigers used the work-benches and tools 
with ever increasing satisfaction. Already the 
dark days of the gang were drifting into the 
past, and the newest patrols of Troop 5 were 
slowly but surely entering into the spirit of 
scout brotherhood. 

In none of them, however, had this spirit 
developed more rapidly than in Sidney Hart. 
He found now an endless source of interest in 
the boys of the South End, and no longer 


288 SCOUT MASTER OF TROOP 5 


dreamed of a wild life in the west. The other 
members also of the Owl and Panther patrols 
had discovered that even boys can accomplish 
things well worth while when they work 
unitedly, with determination. The whole troop 
was now intensely interested in the complete 
renovation of the South End, and they set them- 
selves to interest their relatives t nd friends; 
among these were men of wealth and power 
whom the enthusiasm of the boys stirred to 
action. So from many quarters influence was 
brought to bear upon the city authorities — in- 
fluence too strong to be disregarded — and 
promptly the decree went forth that South End 
streets should be paved, alleys widened and 
drained, vacant lots cleaned, tenements repaired 
and supplied with modern conveniences or else 
torn down, and all unsanitary conditions reme- 
died. Old Reagan, unwilling to submit to these 
sweeping requirements, sold out all his holdings 
and departed to parts unknown, and the boys had 
the satisfaction of seeing the old shanties torn 
down and replaced by comfortable small houses. 

But the transformation of the South End 
was only the beginning. The boys of Troop 5 
have learned that the brotherhood idea is a key 
to the solution of many large problems. Under 
the wise direction of the Scout Master, they 
are studying some of those problems now, and 
planning great things for the days to come. 


2 


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